


Of Cigarettes and Grape Vines

by jyuanka



Category: naruo - Fandom
Genre: AU, Cigarettes, M/M, Multi, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyuanka/pseuds/jyuanka





	1. Chapter 1

~Redheaded Cigarette~

Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto. 

.............................

The clock was ticking, exceptionally fast, on a race with his heart beats.

That was one minute ago, however; now his pulse crossed the finish line and was on a run for the Nile.

When was it going to reach 12, he wondered. The number seemed to run on miles every time the pointer closed on it.

Allowing himself a glance at the occupant of a desk at one corner, seemingly so far away from him, he sighed internally. Sasuke wasn't acknowledging his stare instead continued his hobby of window-gloating, which was just great for him.

Few days ago, he began suspecting Sasuke suspected him and Naruto, better than anyone else, knew his friend had eyes everywhere. Including one on Naruto's very back. Creepier than anything, he started receiving these odd looks from him and he knew, just knew, Sasuke was well aware of his most recent 'activity'.

But Sasuke is a sadistic bastard, so confronting him immediately was not on his list of priorities.

Every time Naruto thought about it, it seemed as if he was committing something so scandalous and disgraceful that the need to hide it from everyone became somehow necessary.

Every little look from his teachers manifested itself as a disapproving figure that floated at the corner of his mind, always crossed and grumpy.

All handshakes with his guy friends made him extremely nervous; and even patting on the shoulder freaked him out of his skin.

What scared him, however, was that he no longer did all these things. Pouncing out of the class, battling legions of bears and hippos to get the girls their snacks from the buffet, on his own tab no less, had been forgotten. And the questions it estimated, either from others or himself made the fact no easier for him, and that all his former activities became second best to nothing but a cigarette or two smoked in the school's shitty background with a person, another guy, a stranger, whom he knew next to nothing about.

Naruto, was to say the least, horrified.

It all started three weeks ago, and with all the disastrous consequences nobody but him seemed to sense, he did not want to stop; wished he'd regret, but didn't.

A really nice day, it was. Sunny, but breezy. A perfect day for sneaking out of history class. Naruto thought nothing could go wrong, because the whole world seemingly smiled at him and played it cool.

And since then, he wasn't fooled whenever it played cool. A really good day was so unreal to end on a good note.

As usual, Naruto skipped around, head darting on every direction until he found a spot where one of his school's massive walls provided a thin, translucent blanket of shade, covering the yellowing grass and junk left on this oft-abandoned area.

Watched; it was the first thing he sensed when thumbing his back against the cool wall and uttering a sigh of relief for arriving here without being caught.

Glancing down, he met with green eyes observing him uncertainly.

Naruto sneezed. The other person sneezed.

Naruto sniffed. The other person sniffed as well.

He stepped back, holding out his palms.

The other person, apparently another guy, was crouching down, his white shirt skewed and wrinkly, untucked and unbuttoned.

Naruto blinked. The other guy blinked too.

In an attempt to calm his thumbing heart, he took a deep breath and released it in huffs. After a long moment of silence, he gave the other guy a sideways glance.

"I'm afraid this is my personal spot."

The other guy looked around. "I don't see your name anywhere."

Naruto huffed, taking a pebble from ground and scribbling his name on the stony floor for the other to see.

"I thought someone who reads poetry would be more... mature."

"I don't read poetry!" he defended indignantly.

"I may have believed that if I hadn't seen you in the library."

Naruto was a little taken aback. "... You saw me at the library?"

Regarding him with a blank expression, the other retorted. "Just because none of your illiterate groupies know the way to the library everybody else doesn't."

"Hey! They're my friends."

"Do they know about this little interest of yours, then?"

At his confused stare, the guy finished with a torrid slap. "I figured so."

Naruto did not understand much at that moment; as every time he came up with a reply, the other guy would come up with another one, and that's how their very first verbal quarrel broke. What boggled him the most is that he liked it.

After he pulled out a cigarette, the other guy ridiculed him for smoking something as local and cheap as Seven Stars.

"Nana much?" the other guy uttered with a smirk, drawing a cigarette from the pack Naruto had offered him.

He was surprised, and a little embarrassed. Always hearing guys jeering about Shoujo, Naruto couldn't help but enjoy few names in the industry.

"Don't judge me man, I like it."

"I wasn't. I like it as well."

Naruto chuckled. "Did you guess I watch it because of my choice of cigarettes?"

The other guy shook his head. "Winter Sleep warbled out of your earphones. Smoking Seven Stars just confirmed it."

Rubbing his neck, Naruto smiled sheepishly and the other guy simply shrugged.

They talked, a lot; one line from him, one line from the other, and Naruto wanted to repeat that conversation over and over again. The two discussed movies they've watched, books they've read, lyrics and music of songs they've heard and even folklore; plus how much the educational system was full of bullshit.

The other guy had said: "Schools only exist to create of us, the raw minded, unquestionably obedient robots. They inflict out-dated information in your brain, only testing your memory, and not how you truly interpret this knowledge you're forced to assimilate. This is why when you finish school, and go out to the real world, you begin to think you're insane and an outright hinder on society; you seem to be the only one understanding how wrong everything is. Failing to comprehend anything, only because for eleven years, you've been living inside a spacious cell, fooled to believe you're actually free, while in fact, you're no more than a member of the heard, easy to sacrifice for what they call the Greater Good."

He was impressed, and admittedly caught off guard with how much the other guy could voice his feelings that Naruto himself wasn't eloquent enough to word.

And then they left, each their way with no goodbyes and no promise to meet again. And only when back in class did Naruto realize that he didn't even get to know the other guy's name.

Next day, with a childish, excited ting in his heart, Naruto got out before math teacher arrived in class and raced to the school's backgrounds, where much to his disappointment, no sign clued him to the other guy's presence.

By that time, Naruto had thought the other guy ended up finding him on a not-so-amusing level and decided that the 'basketball star and friend of all the ladies' wasn't worth his time. Or perhaps he's just late; Naruto waited, and the guy didn't show up.

He wasn't supposed to feel this dejected. This wasn't meant to be anything but a fluke; that once-in-a-life-time event that touches something so profound in you, beyond your reach, and just alters it in ways you can't comprehend; like how the leaves change in autumn. But those had a scientific reason behind them and Naruto was just trying to be poetic.

Maybe, just maybe, the other guy had a scientific reason not to be here.

He knew there was no promise, not even a word thrown his way. But alas, he concealed, like many other times, the hurt expression he was wearing and tied the mask back to his face. It was just another thing on the list to get over.

That, however, proved to be hard when the first thing he saw upon reentering the main hall was the smart-ass stranger conversing with two teachers, consequently handing one of them, rather discreetly, a small bag.

Naruto was intrigued, but decided that he didn't care anymore and that it was none of his business, battling the bottomless well of curiosity inside him out of rotten pride. But when the two teachers left the scene, and his barely hidden presence got noticed, their eyes met, and the other guy didn't have the courtesy to wave, nod, or even blink, but only to give his back and ascend the stairs, causing Naruto's heart to heave and falter despite how wrong it felt to feel this way.

Apparently, there was no scientific reason; he was just disliked.  
.......................

Two days passed, and he ceased the habit of skipping classes, for he no longer felt any sort of gratification stemming from it. That however, didn't mean he and the other guy didn't cross paths frequently in the hallways or at the buffet. He, on his part, refrained from even acknowledging that delightful individual.

That, until the same individual approached him; in the most unorthodox way possible.

By the time it happened, he was washing his hands at the bathroom's sink, fully relishing in the sensation cool water brought on his skin. Finishing, Naruto dried his hands in the ever so efficient towel; his shirt.

And then glanced at the mirror.

He almost shrieked in terror, but held his breath upon taking notice of the familiar milky green eyes and the blank face watching him intensely.

Their gazes didn't just hold, they tangled, and Naruto's heart began warming up for the race.

"I've been searching for you." The other guy had said.

He turned around sharply, resting his hands on the sink's edge as to not give away for his crumbling legs. "Huh! Like you haven't seen me, hypocrite. I was right there!"

The guy's expression didn't change. "It wasn't a good time to talk."

Naruto narrowed his eyes. "What were you doing there anyway, with two teachers no less?"

The other's eyes surveyed the room before shaking his head, sensing another presence with them. "Let us go outside. The break's going to end soon."

Preparing to leave, Naruto had stopped him. "Wait-"

The guy sighed wearily, and only then Naruto had noticed how tired he looked, with black bags under his eyes and a sickly pale face.

"Hey… are you alright?" Naruto couldn't help but ask.

The answer came fast and definitive. "Let us just go outside."

 

Fearing the chance of being caught together trying to write off their existence from classes, the two separated and took different paths until eventually meeting in the junky background.

"Sooo…" Naruto started. When seeing the guy's haggard face, he asked again. "Really man, are you alright? I mean, you seem really sick. Do you need medicine—"

"What is it I'm seeing, the mother-hen side of you?"

"Bastard I'm just trying to help."

"It's just lack of sleep. Rest."

Sharing cigarettes, the two went back to their old way of conversing, two days hostility wholly forgotten. Naruto, little hesitant, had questioned him about the bag and the deal with teachers from the previous day, and was surprised, if not a little skeptical at the answer.

"Hashish."

It was unfiltered and said with total nonchalance.

"Eh." He could hear himself squeaking.

"Hash. Drugs. Medicine. Tobacco. Whatever you like to name it."

Naruto swallowed. "So… are you a part of an organization that sells kids and idiotic adults drugs and deals with hidden agendas seeking to take control over the country?"

"We also recruit idiots like you and brainwash them." The guy continued impassively.

"Well, fuck."

The two chuckled, pushing each other's shoulders lightly.

From what Naruto managed to conclude, the other guy's father is a tobacco merchant who dealt with men of stature and wealth. Aside from that, he also had his own brand of cigar and is a friendly trader of hash.

Naruto thought all this was immensely interesting.

The other guy's father, on the other hand, wasn't; according to the other guy's account of him.

But it wasn't like he was hanging out with Naruto instead of his son, which was good for him. Both of them, actually.  
...............................

That break was good, Naruto still remembers. So good that he, sprawled on the cool sheets of his bed, questioned his sanity and choices.

What was he doing? Was he running away from a cruel, judgmental society? Was he trying to discover a reality which another person had oh so easily created for him? Was he trying to find something, or someone…?

Gaara…

Naruto entertained himself with saying the name repeatedly. Tasting it differently each time. It sounded so rich and velvety. And if he said redolent, he wouldn't be taken it too far.

He had said: "People are always around you, they just don't see you."

And by that noon, he started seeing; the guy's blood red hair and that mark on his forehead that hid a million thing. His electrifying eyes and long fingers. The way he held the cigarette and the way he put it off. How he would slightly part his lips, letting way to a long stream of smoke.

And how, whenever he appeared at sight, it caused a strange yet so familiar tightness in Naruto's chest. His stomach would churn and curl on itself, refusing to untie for the rest of the day.

He started noticing Gaara, and he did not know what to make of it or of all the emotions and sensations it brought.

He was afraid, because his gut instinct was telling him something was wrong. So goddamn wrong. This will not end well. Nothing ended well for him, and like Gaara had pointed out, he wasn't lucky either.

He didn't know about his redheaded friend, but Naruto was beyond the point of addiction. And yeah, he didn't do half-assed things.

From that point, the two of them became closer, meeting everyday at different hours and coming up with a number of reasons to explain their absence to teachers and classmates. It was in no way easy, but it was worth it, that much Naruto knew.

Cigarettes became less enjoyable when they're not smoked at the school's background; when they're not smoked with that person.

Classes, typically unbearable, is now torture sessions.

Sasuke's glares and questioning looks increased in frequency and more often than not Naruto found himself trying to avoid his friend at all costs. He was not ready for explaining; not ready to admit how much colorful life had become and how Sasuke had nothing to do with the spraying of colors.

Girls asked, and he told them the truth, forgoing to mention that he is meeting with another guy daily and adding a lot of things about family and family problems. Girls being, well, girls, they wanted to help.

Not being as dumb as everyone else thought he was; one thing Naruto was glad for.

He was much more than meets the eye, that's what his godfather had said. He also told him that having a little cunning side isn't a bad thing but indeed, an asset.

That didn't mean he liked lying, but through the years, it was a companion of sorts. White lies, they called them. White was deceiving and he didn't understand why people associated the color with purity and divine shit.

Though… he wondered how Gaara was handling the situation on his part. It seemed as if he was never really troubled about it. The two crossing paths on the hallways turned into a game; to see how much they can bump at each other or share glances without arising queries.

So far, it worked. Miraculously.  
.............................

Now Naruto was tiptoeing on the white, ever so clean concrete of one of the school's many hallways; when he got outside, he ran as fast as he could to the place.

They just resorted to call it that. With all the poetry they read, they couldn't find a more elegant, fancy sounding name.

For now, the place was fine.

When he finally reached to it, he saw him, and he felt dizzy.

Gaara was sleeping soundly, or so it seemed to him, with legs slightly parted, one hand resting on his stomach while the other fell limply beside him on the grass.

He looked so peaceful and… safe.

Naruto, impulsively, wanted to reach with his hand, to touch those red locks and challenge the breeze that strayed in them like it does in a wheat field. He couldn't though, because the owner of those red locks opened his eyes and peered at him lazily behind half closed eyelids.

"Naruto," he greeted him.

"'Sup?" Naruto shuffled around until finding a spot where he wasn't uncomfortably close nor achingly far.

The redhead stared at him, scrutinizing. "What happened with you today?"

Naruto didn't know. Nothing really happened and he was feeling perfectly fine, aside from an agitating stomach, that is. "Nothing. I'm just sleepy and it's really hot today."

"It is." Gaara paused, his eyes narrowed. "Do you think that possibly, they could be releasing odorless gas in the air to make us feel disoriented and tired?"

He chuckled nervously. "I know I'm not releasing odorless gas."

Gaara grunted. "I noticed; it still has the same effect."

"Yeah, my fart has that kind of power. Like a secret weapon, y'know?"

The redhead snickered. "We can use it to take over the school."

"That won't have the same effect you're hoping for. Everyone here is well acquainted with it. I think they don't even smell it anymore."

"That sounds very bad."

Naruto laughed, feeling eerily content with talking about such matters. His heart might have as well transformed into a brick with how heavy it became along with a consistent sinking sensation when Gaara joined in the aftermath of his laughter.

He thinks Gaara could control the world with a laugh, not only the school.

If it isn't gas, it was probably the crease of Gaara's eyes and the sound of his chortling that made him feel this disoriented.

Perhaps days ago it was paranoia and fear of discrimination that took over and caused all this disease inside him, making him reluctant to continue doing whatever the hell you'd call this.

Now, however, he wanted to spend the summer with this person. He wanted to go camping with him and do karaoke and swim in a river and talk under the stars. He wanted to get out of the city and exhaust long days with him.

He wanted Gaara to fill his existence; even if it was for a short while.

"What are you planning for the summer?" Naruto asked him.

Gaara shrugged one shoulder. "My father had planned some kind of trip to the country side. Some place called Whirlpool."

He almost felt like fainting.

Thinking that his episodes with the redhead were coming to an end this summer, Naruto couldn't help but feel depressed, so he planned on asking Gaara to move in with him for the summer at their rustic house in Whirlpool. However, his plan set itself in motion without even his consent, and everything seemed perfect.

It all fit awesomely well together. He was going to spend the summer with his friend. No classes, no dress codes, no fear of being caught. A whole three months for themselves. It was beyond perfect.

But for some reason, his instincts were all over the place. For this time, though, he wanted to forget them. He wanted to just follow what was practically given to him on a silver platter.

"What are you going to do?" Gaara's voice woke him up from daydreaming about all the possibilities of a fun vacation with his new friend.

"Well, usually I spend it with my friends doing all sorts of activities. But this year Sakura is going to prepare for collage to be a cardiac surgeon and Sasuke's going to America."

"Sasuke Uchiha, America, how fitting."

Naruto chuckled. "Tell me about it. His brother and cousins are there, so he's going to spend the summer with them. He hasn't seen them for a while."

"I see. You hang out with many others, what about them?"

Naruto pouted, not really sure about the rest. Each was probably going to do their own thing and he wasn't that close to most of them.

"I really don't know. I mean they all want to prepare for next year. Lots of work. Butts all want to be something important."

"Do you want to be something important?"

He stopped to think of it. What did he really want? Studying doorstoppers wasn't his thing and info memorizing wasn't one of his good friends nor was commitment to something in particular. The wind simply carried him around and he liked it. He was likely to end up working at the orchard in Whirlpool and help make wine. Yeah, that was something he delighted in doing.

"I'm going to be a vintner, y'know, make wine." He told him in the most disinterested voice he could use. Gaara nodded, indicating that he's still listening. "I also want to buy a stable and teach children how to ride horses. I love nature and I can't see myself working in the city, or behind a desk. I'm more of a jungle man."

"That's ambitious, Mowgli."

"So yeah, no one important; I'll eventually find the right girl and marry her. Y'know, someone like me."

"And ride your horses into the sunset."

Naruto chuckled. "Yeah…"

That tightness in his chest returned and the 'right girl', faceless and featureless, shaped herself into a candle and melted down at the heat of a volcanic sunset.  
........................

Their little, personal break ended, and Naruto walked back to his classroom where not only did he sense trouble, but could smell it as well.

Everybody were seated and silent; their eyes piercing threw his body like the hot rays of this afternoon's sun as he stood by the door. His teacher, standing on the platform across from them, stared at him expectantly.

"Naruto," she nodded and he returned it with one of his own, nearly bowing.

"Miss Yuuhi."

"Are you alright, Naruto?" she asked kindly, as she always did, making him feel guilty for even thinking of lying to her. "Your bathroom breaks are starting to worry me; and the rest of your classmates as well."

Upon second inspecting, Naruto could tell none of them was actually worried. Curious, was more like it. He could almost see their tongues, moving in anticipation for a flick of gossip that will satiate a desire in them he never had and never understood.

"Actually, Miss Yuuhi…" he cleared his throat. "I just felt a little chocked up by the heat," He gestured to his neck for more emphasis. "The class is pretty hot today, so I thought it'd be alright if I skipped it and, you know, breathed some fresh air."

"I see; but this is the third time on a raw. You happen to not like my classes, Naruto?"

He felt that the question she implied under this was to know whether she was a good teacher or not. She was, but math wasn't. He hated math with a passion.

"Ahhh…"

Colors started to blur and he followed a very attractive orange spot that danced around the room with his eyes. More spots joined on the dancing floor and however much they bumped into each other, they seemed to regain their balance and continue dancing, either solo or with their partners.

They were so beautiful, adding weight to his heart and lungs, making it a little hard to breathe. Was he jealous because they could dance together, so freely and openly?

All he could think of at the moment is that he dearly wished to be that orange spot; surrounded by everyone, exchanging partners but always going back to its lonely position in the middle.

Voices; he detected them in the distance but couldn't recognize to whom they belonged. They were so many he wanted all of them to stop. He felt so weak to even tell them to.

The dots from before washed away; leaving behind them white, misshaped forms.

He tried to stay on his toes, but they couldn't bear his weight. His head bounded painfully and it seemed as if someone had shoved cotton in his ears.  
............................

Naruto was in a void. Complete nothingness.

He liked it. He enjoyed the sensation of being just a soul; no load of flesh, bones or muscle to carry around. Out of body experience, he preferred to call it. But this experience is mostly associated with orgasm.

Why was he thinking about that?

A disembodied penis floated so close to his weightless body and made him squirm uncomfortably. He didn't want it to touch him, so he rolled around, but his body wasn't responding.

There was no body to respond! It terrified him; he wanted his body back.

Suddenly there was a goat. It scurried in his way, its face menacing. He screamed, writhing violently to no avail.

The moment it reached him, he jolted up; a completely different place. He made an attempt to wiggle his toes, then his fingers, consequently infusing life to the rest of his limbs.

"You were out." Naruto darted his head around, only to find Sasuke leaning against a desk in what appeared to be the nursery. His friend took a bite from a very red, very delicious looking apple. "What were you doing out there, frying your brains under the sun? You already don't have much to account for."

Naruto, ignoring the subtle insult, blinked. "I… I blanked out…?"

Sasuke nodded. "Idiot." Taking another apple from the plate on the desk, Sasuke threw it towards him and he barely managed to catch it before smashing on his face. "I didn't know it was that important."

At Naruto's confused look, his friend reiterated. "Seeing that guy."

He was fast to retract. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sasuke snickered. "Oh please. Our alley is small and we know each other. It seems he's doing something so good to you that when you enter class, you're all smiles and shining like a moon in summer."

Naruto didn't get it. Yes Gaara does make him happy in so many ways but how Sasuke said it implied much more than 'something so good' on an emotional level.

His friend probably noticed Naruto's puzzlement so he spoke again. "Let me rephrase, colloquially. Is he sucking your dick off?"

If it weren't for many years of expertise in assholes, Sasuke would now be mourning his fallen teeth.

Naruto had learned, much recently than he'd like to admit, not to end a verbal fight with a blood bath, nor to start one that more than likely will conclude with some serious injuries to both parties.

He learned, as well, not to let Sasuke tick him off by pushing his buttons. If someone knew the right ones to make him angry and mad, it was this guy. Infuriating as he might seem, the two had been through so much together.

What Sasuke had just said about knowing each other very well was right; also the exact same reason Naruto didn't immediately jump to punch the life out of his friend.

Sasuke knew fucking well that Naruto isn't skipping classes to have his dick sucked by a guy; he only said that to keep his image as the ultimate jerk that he actually is, only failing to conceal his curiosity.

Naruto knew, because their alley was not only small, but tiny; and thus barging into each other's shoulders was occasional.

"Asshole,"

"Dick face,"

"Shit licker,"

"Mother—"

"Uzumaki Naruto?" one of the nurses entered the room, cutting their quarrel short.

"Yes?"

"You're called to the principal's office."

Naruto gulped. That was some shit trouble he'd have to deal with.

Helping him up, Sasuke whispered slyly in his ear. "Good luck explaining your little crush to that man."

He glared. "What crush?!"

Before Sasuke could retort, the nurse interrupted them once again. "Gentlemen! Please, Uzumaki, the principle is waiting."

Naruto shook a fest at his friend's smirking face. "See you in hell, bastard."

Sasuke snorted. "I'm afraid you're going there with someone else."

He growled, hating the way Sasuke patted his eyelashes suggestively or the way his eyes glistened with mischief.

Fuck him.  
.......................

Just outside the principal's office, Naruto stopped.

That familiar voice reached him before even noticing the red spot inside.

Gaara was explaining something to the principle, and then interrupted for a question that made it seem more or less like an interrogation was going within the room.

Interrupting the redhead was a bad move; Naruto remarked inwardly.

Checking around for any onlookers and finding none, he stepped closer to the slightly ajar door, making sure to stay out of sight in case the principle decided to take a rest from poring at the hapless redhead.

Eavesdropping isn't the worst thing he's done as of yet, right?

"… This is the second time you've asked, and I said no. We might have, coincidentally, chosen the same time to forgo classes; and I have spotted him on few occasions but did not approach him nor spend time with him."

"If, like you just claimed, spotted him, why didn't you report it to me, or perhaps another teacher?"

"I was not informed it's my duty to detect students' misbehaviors."

At this point, Naruto smiled. Gaara's tone has completely changed; he wasn't trying to maintain a friendly attitude anymore, and it showed at how strained the next question sounded.

"But we rely on you and the rest of your peers to correct the errors of one another's ways."

"I'm here to learn, not to mind the idiocy of teenagers."

"You are saying this as a teenager yourself."

"I'm afraid I was one of those unlucky kids who had to mature before their time. I'm certain a man with such expertise in teaching and dealing with adolescents would understand where I'm coming from."

The earlier smile dropped upon hearing this statement. He didn't have time to think of how much that sounded like him because their conversation was still ongoing; he wanted to hear a little bit more.

"Sabaku; students being at close proximity to each other allows us to reach easily to youths in this school."

"A spying program."

"Are you accusing us of such a thing, young man?"

"I haven't, but it might as well be true. Turning students against each other has always been a thing. What's a better way than to give some of them a false sense of superiority over others, while permitting the freedom to use it whenever their self-esteem endures a blow?"

"You are walking on a thin line, Sabaku."

Gaara stood up, apparently preparing to leave. "It seems I am. Now if you'll excu-"

The principle interrupted the redhead's departure, all the while staring at Naruto with his unsettling gaze. "Sit down, kid. It seems we have company. A little too late, don't you think, Uzumaki?"

Standing at the door, Naruto mustered enough politeness to smile and bow.

"Come join us. According to the many times you're absence from classes have been recorded, I'm rather surprised you cared enough to speak with me."

Naruto rolled his eyes internally, taking a seat on a plastic chair next to Gaara, facing the principle's desk; he rubbed his neck. "You'd have dragged me from my sideburns if I didn't come."

Sending a death glare his way, the white-haired man cleared his throat. "It's been reported you two have 'skipped' over your respective classes several times during the past three weeks. Is that true, Uzumaki?"

"If it's been reported, then why are you asking me?" He could have easily answered, but getting under that man's skin seemed to be rather fun after incidentally hearing the old fart's conversation with his friend.

The man sighed. "I need to hear your saying in this. Sabaku here says you two are not acquainted. Is that right?"

Naruto shrugged. "I did see him several times, you know, being in the same school and all; but no, we never skipped classes together. He's not even in my class."

The principle narrowed his eyes. "So you admit to your indiscretion?"

"Yes."

"We try hard to sympathize with students' issues; according to that, I have to ask why do you think forgoing hours of education is less important than fooling around in the school's grounds?"

Naruto gazed down at his lab, intertwining his fingers. He felt uneasy about it, but if there was an excuse, this will be the most prominent one. "It's just… my parent's divorce and all."

"I understand very well the ramifications of parents' separation; that, however, doesn't give your absent from classes a reason. Guarantying your commitment to this school and its rules is our first and utmost priority; your comfort, on the other hand, comes next."

"Okay."

"Do not okay me, Uzumaki. I have been in the business of teaching for nearly fifty years now and the likes of you has come and gone and can still tell stories about what I have done to students that slacked and thought they could slip away from punishment."

"But you just said you sympathize-"

"And I stand by my word."

"But Mr. Senju, as far as I know, this is a school, not a prison or a penitentiary."

"Are you trying to be smart with me, Mr. Uzumaki?"

"I'm merely pointing out that you can't expect to gain students' respect, trust and dedication if you don't show them some yourself. We are intelligent and more than capable of understanding your words. It's that we choose to convert them as most of us believe that your ways are oppressed and out-dated. I mean you just said teaching is a business."

"What are you implying, boy?"

"I'm implying that it's time for you to retire. Fifty years must've been such a pressure on your system."

The principle placed his large hands on the table and leaned across it; face inches away from his so much Naruto could smell the pleasant scent of mint candy.

Rather a surprise such a person had a nice breath.

"Listen here, Uzumaki. You may be the luckiest kid to ever enter this school and have some nerve to speak with me in such manner without being banned out, of not only this school, but every other institution that might have given two shits about your education.

"Duo to standing at a dire situation where the academic year is at its end and the final exams are approaching, I'll suggest we meet with your teachers so they can all agree to a punishment befitting of an egotistical, self-centered brat like yourself. That goes for you too, Sabaku."

Clearing his throat, the man concluded. "You are allowed to go now until I gather teachers at the end of this day. You will be called here and I expect the two of you to show proper respect."

While the two strode out of the office, Senju, rather dramatically threatened for the last time. "It's your last chance…"

"… At saving the world of scum-bags like me…" Naruto added, imitating mockingly the principal's voice before bursting out with laughter.

He could hear Gaara sniggering behind him.

Turning to his friend, Naruto grinned. "Gaara, let's be legends. This school will remember us for the end of time."

"What are you thinking of?" Gaara asked him.

Naruto summoned his most evil grin. "He said it; they can't do anything. We'll probably be forced to clean floors and some shit after school ends."

He struck a pose, arms in the air and cackled madly. Or what he thought to be mad cackling. "You'll see… we'll be the ones laughing at the end."

 

Finally outdoors, Naruto and Gaara walked to the small, empty stadium surrounding the exterior basketball court and chose to sit at the far end of it where shade covered the large stairs.

Students were still having their classes.

It was silent until Gaara spoke. "I watched your basketball game yesterday."

"You did?" he stopped himself before asking if Gaara thought he played good or not.

"Yes. You weren't that bad. Focused; lacking in the teamwork department."

Naruto huffed. "I don't lack teamwork."

"Yeah, that's why you lost."

It was a little like a stab. "We didn't lose because I 'lack teamwork'. We lost because the idiots I play with are well… idiots."

"The true idiot is one who perceives others as idiots."

He began sensing that heat rising within him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Taking his eyes away from the court and looking at him, Gaara answered. "You're arrogant."

Naruto snorted. "No I'm not. I'm good at what I do, and so I expect others to be as well."

"What if they weren't?"

Naruto thought the answer for that one was obvious. "Then they shouldn't play basketball! I mean you either contribute something or hold back."

"So you, not passing the ball, counts as contributing?"

There was a voice in his head, pressing him to say something else in fear Gaara would think differently of him; but then he knew it won't be real. He'd be lying and Gaara wouldn't like that.

"At least I know what I was doing. This is my game; I'm competent enough to be called a team player."

Gaara stared forward. "Not enough to be made captain."

"pffft, like I want to be captain anyway."

"No, it's because you weren't asked to be team captain. You don't have team spirit."

Gaara was getting too close and it annoyed him, so he did like every other person does in such situations; point out the other person's flaws as if that would make his disappear. "Like you have team spirit."

"No, I don't. That's why I prefer to do things that don't require more than one individual."

He let out a frustrated growl. "What do you want from me then?!"

The redhead scowled at him. "I want you to stop thinking of how imperfect this world is; stop expecting from people to give their all the same way you do; just stop it. Stop loading everything on your shoulders as if you're responsible for other people's mistakes. You're not the messiah, you're Naruto. It's good to be Naruto."

He became highly aware of his damp eyes and tried to gaze up so no tears would fall.

His soul was reduced to a ricochet. It pounced off the walls inside him and now it tried to seep out of his eyes. Naruto just wanted to crawl into a corner and rock himself to sleep.

However, he inhaled sharply when something soft engulfed his hand. Glancing down, he saw Gaara's hand enveloping his. The redhead wasn't squeezing too tight nor did it seem forced. It was just wrapped warmly around his, concealing all the disharmonies and insecurities that plagued him.

For a moment, Naruto didn't want to let go, but like he did whenever it was uncomfortable, he joked.

"I didn't know you were the type to hold hands."

"I'm not."

Naruto sniggered. "So it's just for me?"

Gaara looked down, face sullen. "No… It's for me."

"Do you want a hug?" he asked without thinking and regretted it when his friend stared at him impassively as if he just suggested they strip out of their clothes and threaten everyone with water balloons.

When Gaara didn't answer, Naruto retracted. "I'm sorry I just thou-"

"I'm not certain."

"What?"

Gaara sighed. "I'm not certain if I want to be that close to you."

He chuckled. "Are you, or are you not aware that you're holding my hand?"

"It's different." Gaara said. "I can still walk away; if you held me, it'll be different because then it's more than mere consoling."

Naruto didn't understand. "Why are you putting such pressure on it? I mean you're not obligated to hug me or anything."

The redhead stared him in the eye, compelling Naruto to acknowledge the rapid beating of his heart. "I want to, but in the same time I don't. You make me uncertain about many things. I found myself reevaluating everything since the moment I talked to you and I came to the realization that you… you frighten me."

Naruto could almost hear the screeching of a record. "I frighten you?"

"I've never felt comfortable with physical contact. Holding your hand, however, it was an unconscious act. I wasn't aware of it until it happened." Gaara smiled faintly. "Holding your hand… it doesn't feel so bad."

He turned his palm upwards, reciprocating his friend's gesture and twining their fingers together in what seemed to be the gayest thing he'd ever done.

Holding Gaara's hand… it didn't feel so bad.  
.......................

"Here it is." the short, chubby janitor handed them a paper with a list of what they were going to do as punishment. "I ain't going to supervise, so you better do all these things right."

Naruto grunted, but took the paper nonetheless. It promised a long day, but becoming a legend doesn't happen easily.

The janitor pointed at a corner full of cleaning supplies and equipment. "There's everything you two will need. When done, return it all to its place."

They nodded, watching the man turn his back and walk away after giving them one final glare. "I want to see my reflection on the floor."

Naruto leaned on Gaara's ear. "A sense of superiority, you said?"

His friend snorted. "Let's get this done with."

The paint buckets were waiting for them exactly where they left them. The two shuffled around until they gathered all empty buckets the janitor had given them and filled it with paint. Orange, pink, blue, yellow, green and yeah, red.

It was perfect.

Naruto grinned mischievously and Gaara returned it with one of his own evil smirks.

"Perhaps we should put some music?" he suggested.

The redhead nodded.

"Let the show begin."  
........................

Naruto sighed contently. "It's like we're inside a bubblegum. A very chewed bubblegum."

Gaara peered at their work, scrutinizing. "Maybe we added too much pink."

"Are you kidding? Pink is awesome!"

His friend hummed. "Now to our masterpiece,"

"Senju's going to have a rough day tomorrow~." Naruto sang out.

Taking the few buckets left, the two made a bee line to the principal's office. Suspiciously enough, the door was left open, so the two took cautious before entering.

There was no one to be seen.

"This's odd…"

"It's not like him to leave the office unlocked."

Glancing at Gaara for reassurance, Naruto walked deeper inside the mystery of all mysteries that is Senju's office.

"I hope he think it's blood." Gaara whispered behind him.

"His wife's blood."

"He's not married."

"Pffft, figures."

Bumping their paint rollers together, the two dipped them in the only color left.

"We need to make it look as if someone was killed here." Gaara said.

"How? Have you killed anyone before?" he wondered.

"I contemplated killing my father several times. Not in such a messy way, though."

"How then?"

Gaara picked under his nails disinterestedly. "Poison; fast and efficient."

"You're evil."

"Who isn't?"

Naruto shifted his weight to his other leg. "I'm starting to have second thoughts about this. I mean it's one thing to vandalize an entire school and thoroughly different thing to mess with a Senju."

"It's too late to have second thoughts, Naruto; we're already in too deep."

He grouched. "We're so going to be expelled."

"We finished our exams. The school had ended. They can't expel us." Gaara said in a matter-of-fact tone. "The worst they can do is degrade our marks enough to fail this year."

Naruto gasped. "You mean make us repeat the last year of high school?!"

Gaara shrugged. "Maybe. But they would want to get rid of us, so I believe there's a chance we might pass this unharmed."

"What if they sentenced us to prison?"

The redhead gave him the same impassive look he did the other day. It was absolutely shaming.

Naruto suddenly remembered. "Hey, next week's our anniversary. Y'know, for the first day we started hanging out together."

"What a joy." Gaara deadpanned.

He chuckled. "Hey Gaara… I'm looking forward to our next anniversary."

The redhead snorted. "If I haven't succeeded in brainwashing you by then."

"I think your job is already done."

Gaara displayed an expression Naruto had never seen before; his eyes at first seemed clouded, but then his face mellowed and he smiled crookedly. Naruto sensed something thin, like a thread, drift between them. He wanted to get hold of it and pull the redhead closer.

He couldn't though, because a roaring echo that shook the room sounded from outside.

"BASTARDS~~!"

"At least food in prison is free, and we'd wear these awesome orange suits!"

"Your optimism disturbs me."  
.............................

Notes:  
To clarify some things, I used names like Nana, the anime and the manga; also the song Winter Sleep by Olivia Lufkin is sang in the anime (the series is really beautiful with astounding music; you should check it).

Seven Stars, like you might have noticed, is a cigarettes' brand smoked by the protagonist in said manga.

This is just the prologue, but I hopefully succeeded in making it stand as a one-shot.

Just a warning: I'm not going to take this fic seriously, so you shouldn't as well. If you're expecting something epic, than I suggest you look for another story to read. Conflicts will be present but they will be solved promptly and easily. I just want to keep things light-hearted and silly. So yeah.

I hope you enjoyed ^^

A note: if anyone interested in beta-reading this very chapter or next ones, please drop me a PM.


	2. Wine in the Nose

Today, Naruto Uzumaki was at odds with the world.

Their house was surrounded by two stores; one behind the house itself and the other on the far end of their vineyard. And it all began at the early hours of morning when he was given a task to check on the food supply stored in the southern warehouse.

Why would anyone store food in there was beyond him. The place was notorious for rat attacks and humidity that presses on one's beliefs.

The only thing good to store there was wine, but it wasn't the case here.

He knew what was awaiting him; his mother knew as well and she apologized before hopping in her truck and heading out of town.

With a great rumble, the large, tall wooden door slid open and Naruto stood at the entrance, scrunching his face in expectancy for an unbearable waft to reach his nose any moment.

It did, and it was worse than spoiled milk and guys' armpits after training.

For one to forget about food there needs to be a legit reason. For his mother, of all people, to procrastinate, omit the mission she assigned herself and worst of all, wait for him to remind her of what she's supposed to do were all things Naruto never thought would ever happen. Not in this life time anyway.

The divorce must have taken its toll on her, and she silently endured it.

He felt like a paper bag in a storm; whether he got thrown there or flew by sheer willpower was unknown to him. And why that line of thought didn't affect him was a contemplation for another day.

Focusing on the problem at hand, Naruto climbed the tall pile of chaff squares positioned against the wall to reach for the large, rectangular window in order to let light inside the dark store; he then skidded down, and started shoving rotten vegetables and fruits in sackcloth bags, feeling incredibly sad at the sight of gray strawberries and disgusted at the texture of the white mold that covered the prickly pears.

While it should have made him angry to be put in such situation along with all the poor, innocent food, he found himself rather retrospectively feeling sorrier for his mother.

The last thing Kushina Uzumaki would want is her own son pitying her, so it was better to hold these thoughts within mind range. Her sixth sense far exceeded his; therefore he was still thankful she couldn't read his mind. Entirely anyway.

Naruto fetched a small, rusty can from one of the warehouse's jumbled corners and filled it with few worms he managed to collect from the rotten food he put inside the bag.

They would make for good fishing baits.

Continuing with his work, he took an old pitchfork and swept the straws and other things that found its way into the stock out of the warehouse. As he worked on cleaning the ground, Naruto thought about his school situation; or lack, thereof.

Having no one to vouch for him, Naruto was given two choices; either repeat the last year of high school or drop out.

He dropped out.

It seems like life didn't want much from him.

But you know? He didn't want much of it either; just a small space for himself.

Wanting to break free from the clutches of what they called 'school', Naruto picked the second option without much hesitation. It certainly didn't please his parents, as they had to sit down for three hours to discuss their son's misdeeds with the principle and other teachers.

After that session, he never remembered seeing them so goddamn broken.

What did they expect from him? Were they expecting anything at all?

Kushina had patted his shoulder encouragingly after they left the school but said nothing, while Minato smiled brusquely, bidding them goodbye the moment his mother's truck arrived in front of his house.

From there, days went on worse than lukewarm tea.

It was sooner or later they'd have to accept the fact their son is not going to college, and both of them will eventually seek a solution. But for the meantime, things were a bit strained, especially with his father whom he hadn't seen since they came back from school nor received a call from.

This family had kept itself afloat, mainly because of him. Naruto knows, however, that seams in a boat cannot be fixed by stitching.

Demanding higher education, his parents sent him to the city where he could attend what they apparently perceived as a 'good school', thus arranging for a temporary stay with his godfather until he returns at the beginning of every summer to this place.

And this place, in a display of startling stubbornness, refused to change.

No matter how much their house had modified itself through the years, the vast area embracing it remained unchangeable.

Trees, tall and proud, stood as guardians, forming a necklace around the house which in itself was one of the moles in an otherwise clear face. Its neck was a lengthy vineyard you needed to cross in order to reach the main lands; but there was the back entrance as well, which saved you the inconvenience of having to walk through several miles of soil.

After it sprawled a chest that was famous for its flowery knolls; then there was what Naruto liked to call the 'womb', a natural dam that provided water to their crops. The legs extended to a small forest separating their land from the rest of Whirlpool; it gave their home an isolated, secluded air.

Standing outside, Naruto inhaled deeply, appreciatively; Whirlpool's mornings were a sin to miss. He pulled a cigarette out of his jeans overall's pocket and lit it, inhaling; the scent of tobacco soothing his mind.

Sauntering through the vineyard, taking his time to check on the green buds that would become as black as beautiful summer nights and caressing them with love and care, Naruto looked up at the sky, both of them receiving the warmth of a grumpy sun.

He smiled, the soft breeze frizzing around his face, sending a pleasant shiver through his body and causing the hairs at the back of his neck to stand.

Arriving at the dam, Naruto strode to the bank which was a small grassy ravine, serving as a platform for when they used to have picnics.

He secured the cigarette's butt in his pocket before stepping out of his loosely tied shoes, unclasping his overall's straps and snaking out of it, consequently taking off his shirt and adding it to the pile. Since there was nobody around, Naruto got rid of his boxers as well and hopped in place until the cold air felt a bit merciful on his flesh.

Walking to the edge, Naruto tested the waters' temperature with his toes; it was as chilly as would be expected.

Taking a mighty breath, he descended down to the water, submerging himself to the chest. He then swam forward, waving his limbs around like noodles, getting every part of his body to accommodate to the water.

It was such a nice feeling, to be back here. This sense of distance, of isolation… why did he prefer it above all else? People often envied his parents for their 'out going, cheerful son'. It consequently made him feel like two people resided his body.

Or maybe he was just a swindling lair.

Sun rose high in the sky, and he swam back to the dam side, resting his back against the edge. Now that he was in such a serene state, Naruto's mind wandered inadvertently to someone he found himself dearly missing.

His heart skipped a beat. It annoyed him how that person could cause such a feeling of… estrangement, from the rest of the world; forlorn, that's what Naruto felt whenever the redhead crossed his mind.

He glanced up at the stream of clouds that blotted the sun, seeing turquoise where there isn't.

It was such an odd feeling.

............................

Minato Namikaze stared at his beautiful, long legs in the long mirror he oh-so-loved, satisfactory written all over his face.

Such a beautiful morning, such a nice life; nothing is better than two legs glistening after a shaving session, giving their owner the confidence to start his day fresh and happy.

The blond man skipped around the room, extending his arms to an imaginary partner, voicelessly asking for a dance. The invisible partner nodded to him, and they swayed around the room, moving with unmatchable gracefulness.

If Minato was anything, he was an excellent dancer.

He twirled his partner around, the invisible presence pivoting weightlessly on its toes, raising its leg up in the air and balancing on its other one, all with such agility that left Minato simultaneously stunned and thrilled.

The invisible partner then graced the floor with the touch of its feet, and maneuvered nimbly to Minato's side, still holding his hand.

Their movements subsequently slowed down until the due parted, bowing to each other with practiced nobility. He gave his thanks to his partner for the good dance and strutted to the kitchen, catching the irresistible scent of his meal, ready to devour.

It was indeed, a beautiful morning. To him anyway.

Hearing the distinct cuckoo that was his doorbell ringing, Minato waddled to the door, opening it to see one Naruto that turned from smiling sheepishly to staring at him, flabbergasted.

"Naruto," he greeted, grinning widely at his son's bemused face.

"… Dad…"

Minato stepped aside, ushering his son inside the house. "You came at such a wonderful time. Breakfast is ready."

Naruto followed his father inside, almost forgetting to close the door behind him while unconsciously surveying the room, searching for any sign of life beside his father.

"What brought you here?" Minato's voice sounded from the kitchen.

He scratched his head. "Ahhh… you didn't call; I just wanted to check on you."

Minato laughed. "I'm one fine bottle of wine; don't worry about me."

"Yeah I guess…" Naruto fidgeted in place, feeling eerily uncomfortable about the subject, especially after seeing what kind of outfit his father was proudly donning. "Y'know… I actually came here to say… I'm-"

"Come here, Naruto."

With the docility of a child, he complied, making his way to the kitchenette, to not so gleefully be greeted by his father's bare butt.

Naruto huffed in disgruntlement. "Dad, please put something on."

His father turned around, an easy smile painted perfectly on his face. "I already have something on."

"Besides the pink apron!"

Minato leaned against the sink with his elbows, scrutinizing his son's clothes "What do you want me to dress like?"

Naruto crossed his arms. "I don't know. Like normal fathers are supposed to dress like?"

The taller man shrugged. "But I'm comfortable in this, just like they're comfortable in their boring trousers and ugly golf shirts."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, too agitated. "Why can't you be normal?"

"What is your definition of normal, Naruto?"

His embarrassment fainted at the question, and he raised his head, meeting his father's warm blue eyes. They weren't expectant, they were accepting; but they were still there, holding him in place.

What was his definition of normal… he's struggled with the concept of normalcy for most of his life; he should know what it's like.

But wasn't it like love? It didn't have just one definition, by default. You define it the way you know it; the way you experience it.

He had no fucking idea what it was.

"I… I don't know." Naruto finally answered, rubbing the back of his head, eyes downcast.

"Listen Naruto," Minato started. "You should let me be, and let other people be as well. I believe this will make your life much less stressful."

What did his father know about stressful?

Minato suddenly laughed. "Now now, let's eat breakfast; you must be hungry."

The two sat around the small table in the kitchen, setting their plates, full of pancakes and strawberries; gentle light filtering through a yellow, half opened gauzy curtain.

Minato broke the silence, waiting to swallow before he spoke. "How's your mother?" he asked apathetically.

"She's fine." He answered, easily pinpointing the man's poorly hidden curiosity. "This morning she rode the truck outside town, said it's a surprise."

His father scratched his neck, feigning disinterest. "A surprise?"

Naruto snorted, finding the man's tone to be rather interesting for someone who acted all too indifferent. "Yeah, I guess she's gonna bring something with her; though she seemed a little nervous about it."

Blue eyes widened. "Kushina, nervous? Those words don't exist in the same vocabulary."

He shrugged. "I could be wrong, but that's what I felt."

"Perhaps she's seeing someone?"

Naruto gaped. "Huh? There's no way, your divorce procedures has barely end-"

"I'm seeing someone."

The fork unwittingly fell from his hand and collided loudly with his empty platter, resounding through the small kitchen. "Really?!" he exclaimed, nauseous all of a sudden.

Minato locked him with a leveled stare, maintaining that bothersome expression of easiness. "While I did expect you'd be surprised, I didn't realize it would make you mad."

He wasn't mad. Yes he was surprised, and a little more than irked, but he wasn't mad. Was he?

The man shifted his posture, resting his back against the wooden chair and draping an arm over it. "Kushina and I are still young. We're both uncommitted now, unmarried, and as you might have noticed, kind of attractive; it's our right to go see other people."

Dull anger swelled inside him like a lost dragon with no purpose; his shoulders slumped down, stiff hands found shelter in his lap and huddled away from another pair of blue eyes.

Why did it feel like millions of candles inside him were being blown out?

Naruto got up from his chair, feeling incredibly low spirited to argue or even stay. Minato followed suit, not saying anything but toeing behind his son to the main house's door.

The shorter blond tried to open the door, but it refused to cooperate; he started yanking it aggressively.

Where did all this frustration come from?!

Sleek fingers wrapped around the knob, twisting it the other way around, allowing sun light to settle within the house.

He turned around, forcing a thankful expression on his face. "Thanks."

Minato nodded, looking amused which made the situation even worse.

"Naruto," the man stood at entrance, smiling kindly. "Try to understand us, especially your mother. Just because we're seeing other people doesn't mean we don't respect each other, or the life we had shared. Kushina and I are still good friends, you know that."

What he knew is that he didn't come all the way from their home to town so his father could stomp on his day with this unbelievable, hurtful nonchalance. He had hoped they'd speak about his future; maybe receive some form of support but yet all he got was misplaced cheerfulness and it completely, utterly crushed him.

However, he nodded, walking as fast as possible, far away from so much confusion, his anger nowhere near dissipating.

Between Minato and Kushina, where was he in this equation?

..............................

Naruto walked through the busy streets of Whirlpool's one and only market. It was a huge one; a long, ancient cobblestone tunnel, paved in flat stones with painstaking precision; shaded by a massive ceiling constructed above the market, providing all colors of the rainbow to bath it during day.

The shops, ever restless, lined the road, calling people in to try their food, beverages, trinkets, and clothes.

Faces beamed, arms flung, shoulders bumped and it was never quiet. But that's what gave the Cassay Market its fame.

And it's also why Naruto chose it out of all places.

But if anything, he was really proud of this place, for reasons he was not entirely familiar with.

Whirlpool has stood unflinching in the face of rural industry, retaining its provincial wilderness and regional simplicity, yet remaining as artistic and beautiful as anyone could remember; and this market, this stony road, was a sign of it all.

What made it such a mystery, however, was the way the cobblestone tunnel branched into small routs that lead nowhere at times, and lead you out of the market at other times.

History books claim this tunnel was built during the war when several enemies of the country decided to finally get the snake out of their boots and invade it, thus forcing the local army to retreat, choosing Whirlpool as a station for their corps, relying on its never ending food and water sources, its tricky geography and the oblivious state of its people.

The boulder of realization eventually crumbling on them, the country opened its eyes on its weakened state, and issued an order to construct the tunnel, primarily using it for cover and ambush plans if the enemy ever discovered the underground burrow, hence digging dead-end routs, endless stairs and secret passages where it would be easy to confuse and frustrate the enemy soldiers.

Several maps of the tunnel were then spread around, reaching the enemies' hands and prompting them to attack once again, unknowingly putting their trust on a false map.

They did ultimately raise the tunnel above ground, but to end it short, they got much more than what they bargained for.

Naruto inhaled, immersing in the smell of grilled meat and vegetables that flooded the street, sneaking into the seamed road, between the stones and the cracks in the walls.

His stomach growled, and he fished money out of his pocket and went to the vendor, buying himself a pita pocket, filled with seasoned meat, its fragrance intoxicating his brain.

Finding a spot outside at the market's mouth where a grassy blanket spread itself on the sides of the road, illuminated by the sun of Whirlpool's hot middays, Naruto perched under a tree, fully appreciating the cool shade the leaves provided.

Taking the first bite of this heavenly sandwich, he moaned; crunching the slices of meat, green pepper and onion between his teeth, relishing in the flavors that filled his mouth; the savory taste of the pungent pepper sauce burning his throat in a good way as he swallowed.

Food was the only, one thing, worth worshiping on this sinful earth.

As he laid down on his back, chewing thoughtfully on the last of his sandwich, Naruto's mind wandered to his friends whom he saw off, leaving each other hanging.

Sasuke and Sakura left, to new lives, to places where he couldn't see them, were he couldn't comfort them; places where he wouldn't be there to celebrate their victories and failures, to watch over and share a plate of fries with them. The thought made his chest contract with even more pain than before.

What were they doing now, he wondered.

But however! He shook his head; they had promised to call each other once they'd settled, yet… he got no calls and made no attempt to call himself.

What kind of bunch were they?

The kind of bunch that miss each other silently… 

Naruto scoffed. They were nothing but idiots.

He got up, deciding it's time to go back home and check on the one misfit which worried him the most. But before that, he needed to pick up few things to prepare lunch for his guest.

..............................

Planks of wood creaked under Naruto's feet as he entered the northern warehouse, the place where their old, unused furniture were kept. This time, however, it was more than dusty sofas and broken chairs that lurked in the darkness of the warehouse.

Hearing a distinctive whistle coming from above, Naruto glanced up to see his friend sitting on piled up couches, silhouetted by the light coming from a window similar to the one in the southern warehouse.

The shock of white hair that crowned his head and fell down to cover his left eye seemed almost transparent, mingling with the equally pale rays filtering from outside.

For his friend, to choose this as a room, out of all places. So like him.

Naruto smiled. "Hey Kakashi,"

"Hey Naruto,"

He noticed a familiar orange book in his friend's hands. "Where in hell did you get that from?"

The white-haired man finally gazed down at him, seemingly upset for being distracted from his book. "One of your parents seems to have a rather… interesting, taste in literature."

Naruto sneered in disgruntlement, trying to keep the thought of them as far as possible. "I don't even care anymore. So, what have you been up to?"

The tall man stood up, cracking the joints in his back before tardily descending down the couches. "Reading."

"And?"

"Reading." Kakashi looked around the warehouse. "Isn't there any other books I can read?"

Naruto huffed. "Not the kind you want, I assure you."

Kakashi sighed dramatically. "Such is my life."

His eye twitched. "Aren't you hungry, Kakashi?"

Brightness crawled on the man's face, and he clapped his hands excitedly, just like a child would. "I am!"

Naruto snickered as they made a bee line out of the warehouse. "So, anything interesting in that book?"

"Trying to fool me, Naruto, huh?" Kakashi gave him a sideway glance. "I know you've read it."

Warmness crept to his cheeks, prompting him to look away. "Although I do hope you've washed your hands before picking up the book again."

Naruto's face flared. "Kakashi!"

The older man chuckled. "I thought most boys your age were drawn to pornography."

He huffed. "Most, most boys are drawn to it." 

Kakashi ruffled his hair lovingly like he always did. "It delights me to know you've found words strong enough to stir you physically. Not many people do."

Naruto shrugged. "I just find porn extremely corny and unbelievable; not in a good way."

"True." Kakashi nodded sagely. "Did you ever have sex yourself, Naruto?"

He halted in the place, right before the house's door.

That man was a master at making him feel awkward and at complete disadvantage.

"I take your silence as a sign you haven't?"

Naruto strode to the door and opened it, stiffly walking inside.

His sexual activity was none of Kakashi's business, as far as he was concerned. "I just don't like talking about these things with people."

"So you consider me 'people?" Kakashi asked, giving him a pointed look.

"It's not about that!" he exclaimed exasperatedly, feeling annoyed, inexplicably so, and not because Kakashi was pressing him to confess his virginity.

It irked him because the subject itself brought the memory of someone he wasn't supposed to think about when it came to sex matters.

"It's not about that…" he faltered. "I… no, well- yes, I'm a virgin. Are you happy now?"

They continued their way to the kitchen in heavy silence, Kakashi toeing after him. He finally seemed to have an answer, though.

"No, in fact, I'm not happy. Labeling yourself a virgin just because you're yet to engage in sex with someone is not very clever. Refrain from having such a narrow view on things society has created. A boy like you should know better."

Naruto didn't answer, clinging into silence until they reached the kitchen where Kakashi took a place around the rectangular table in the middle and he sauntered to the sink, unloading groceries from the brown paper bag he left there.

"I've never had sex before, so what?" Naruto said, busying himself with placing food on the wooden surface surrounding the sink. "I mean… there was never someone I really wanted to have sex with. Yeah, hot girls were all around me, but none of them was… desirable."

"The boys in the book were?"

He wanted to smash his head against the sink right then and there.

Naruto pivoted around sharply, facing the mellow-faced man. "Why Kakashi? Why are you asking such things? You're making me uncomfortable."

"To make someone uncomfortable, to get them out of their comfort zone, is the way to start a constructive discussion."

It bothered him greatly to realize that's exactly what the man did; getting him out of his safe haven. However it prodded him to regain some of his composer, knowing Kakashi could never mean harm. He still didn't want to talk about it, though, and he voiced it.

Kakashi shrugged nonchalantly. "It seems I was wrong at thinking you'd open up to me. Alas; what are we gonna eat?"

He took place across from his friend, putting a tuna sandwich, shored up with parmesan, olives, tomatoes, and lettuce on the table; all packed nicely between two pieces of toast. Kakashi peered at it ravenously, picked it up like a treasure, and stuffed his face with big bites.

Meanwhile, Naruto took his time, seizing the silence to stare at his friend's face. More specifically, at the scars around his mouth.

They almost seemed drawn by a cheap marker, the one you write on CDs with, but Naruto knew they weren't. Naruto knew those scars were more than real, and each had a story far beyond this life.

As children, Sakura, Sasuke and he would often joke, believing that Kakashi was a cat and this life was merely one of the many he'd lived before.

But what would you know, those scars proved them wrong.

The man continued to eat, savoring every bite as if it was his last. A man like him would know better than to under-appreciate food.

Because only recently Kakashi Hatake abandoned a homeless life for a more 'comfy' one, and reluctantly agreed on coming to Whirlpool with Naruto instead of dwelling the city's streets like a stray cat.

However, even when sleeping and living under a roof, Kakashi still retained his appearance; dirty clothes, mussed hair, bare feet, and a dangerously alluring, mysterious air.

Once a wild cat, always a wild cat.

Naruto put down his half eaten sandwich, knowing there's no way around this elephant. "Kakashi…" the man perked at hearing his name and nodded, wiping small chunks of food off his mouth with his hand. "You're… you're not 'people'; you're my friend, and I trust you. I'm yet to feel comfortable about many things, when it comes to me. You have nothing to do about it."

"Indeed I don't," Kakashi answered unexpectedly. "But I would like to."

Naruto sighed. "I wouldn't like you to."

The man stood up, seemingly finished eating, and carried his plate to the sink. "Listen Naruto, bottling emotions is no good." Kakashi turned around, his visible eye curved in a smile. "If you don't voice your feelings, then how can you change the world?"

He carried his plate to the sink as well, standing beside his taller friend. "But I don't want to change the world, Kakashi."

The white-haired man gazed up at the high ceiling of the kitchen, speaking without looking at him. "But I've seen it; I've always did. It's in your eyes. if you don't want to change the world, Naruto, than who does?"

Naruto propped his hand, turning the faucet and making it to clean the plates, hoping the sound will cover his sniffing if the tears became more persistent. "You've always been a revolutionary one." Kakashi concluded. "Perhaps you're still yet to realize what you want, or what life wants from you, but you have a sense of purpose that graces only few humans. Letting go of that is equivalent to suicide."

Kakashi glanced at him, smiling genially. "Don't let go of it."

He closed the faucet, his tears a temporary substitute for water. Clutching at the tap, teeth firmly clenched, he was suddenly pulled by his friend's strong arms to a warm chest.

Naruto clung to the holes in Kakashi's jacket, expanding them with the holes in his being, wishing they'd devour him. "I don't know anymore…" he blubbered, something melting and reforming within him. "I'm so confused- I'm so scared… I feel so lonely- Kakashi…"

The man drew soothing lines on his back, stroking his hair lovingly, wordlessly letting him vent all these emotions. Naruto held tighter on his friend's jacket, wishing the heat would melt him away.

Wishing he hadn't broke down.

"We all feel lonely sometimes, Naruto." the man said, holding Naruto's shoulder and prompting him to look at his eye. "It's alright to feel lonely; what's not alright is to think that you're actually alone."

Kakashi smiled widely, challenging the borders of the room and the whole universe. "Get it?"

Naruto sniffed, wiping snot with his hand. He was not able to grapple with such sincerity, and so he faced away. "You're making me uncomfortable again, Kakashi."

His friend laughed heartily. "I'm trying here."

The laughter calmed his world for now, and he stepped away, drying his tear-stained face. "You stink by the way. Go take a shower."

Kakashi sniffed under his armpits. "That's the nicest I've smelled in a long time."

Naruto snorted. "One of the reasons mom allowed you to stay is to be clean and help with the land's duties."

Kakashi scratched his head sheepishly. "She hasn't been very sure about me to begin with. Bringing a stranger with you is certain to have worried her."

"You're not a strange-"

"To her I am."

He shifted weight to his other leg, eyeing the kitchen's entrance as if someone is going to come in any moment. "I've already explained the situation to her." he said, looking back at his friend. "Mom is an understanding woman in nature. Just shower every now and then, do what she tells you to, crack some good jokes and she won't mind having you around."

Kakashi chuckled. "I can work on that."

As the man strode out of the kitchen, heading for the bathroom across from them, Naruto shouted after him. "And for crap's sake, throw these clothes away and take something decent from my closet."

The man shouted back, assuring him that yes, he will change into something more seemly.

Naruto let out a sigh of relief, glad to have settled things within himself, as utopian as it felt, anyway.

Fetching his pack of cigarettes from his overalls' pocket, Naruto walked out of the house, dashing through the main land and shrubbery until arriving to the vineyard where he lit his cigarette, taking advantage of his mom's absence.

His mind returned to hovering over the memory of the person a cigarette always managed to remind him of.

It's been three days since they've spoken. And with this one as well, he made no attempt to call, even going so far as to restrain his fingers from dialing the number whenever his cell phone was nearby.

He didn't want Gaara to think he's dying to speak with him, even though yes, he was. He wanted to have a conversation with the redhead. He wanted to see him badly and to truly begin the summer, with him.

But above all else, he needed a reassurance the redhead wasn't merely a fraction of his mind.

He needed to feel that tangibility one more time; to have the redhead in his life once again.

Only he had the power to fill and create new pores in Naruto's world however he wished. Some of them were painfully drilled, but yet the process of drilling them felt so good and refreshing; almost adventurous.

Naruto took a long drag from his cigarette, but instantly shot it to the ground once he heard noises coming from behind him. He glanced back, and upon seeing red, he waved his arms around in a futile attempt to scatter the smoke but the footsteps on the soil ceased not.

His heart began to bump faster in his chest and he knew; he knew his mother is going to kill him and bath in his blood.

For a moment that seemed to warp eternity all together, Naruto could no longer feel his pulsing heart.

There was turquoise where there should be turquoise…

"Gaa-"

"We're in deep shit."


	3. White Sands

He could see himself clearly, standing far away at the edge of a sand dune.

He preferred to stay at a reasonable distance during such visions and pretend he's watching another person; though he could tell what kind of expression hisself is wearing even when he's looking away.

It would seem like such a nonsensical, chaotic thing, hisself; but sometimes, it would be a long line of coordinated rhymes.

And at times, he would take the shape of someone else, but it would still be him. Deep inside he knows it's still him but somehow he can't help but wonder if it's really not.

This time, it was him alright, but he wasn't alone.

Beside him stood a taller guy; he recalled how comfortable it was to place his head on the other's shoulder.

It was dawn, and the air was cold and shrewd. A profound sense of finality resided in it like a musk he grew accustomed to during the last month. That familiar scent didn't belong to the person next to him, however.

No matter how much the other guy changed, in his visions he'd always have the same keen yet delicate features. His hair would be as luscious as ever. His eyes would still remain paler than his and his skin softer.

Time in his visions didn't change as well. It was forever a dawn, in which the sun pinned itself to a spot on the horizon, like a photo. Just like this, time didn't pass. He didn't grow, he didn't age; he was feathery in this world.

It didn't mean he liked it all the time, though. Yes he loved it when he was alone but his legs screamed at him to flee whenever that person appeared in his vision. It was a luxury he refused to retain.

That person denied him it and he obliged; a docile child.

He knows his imagery is vast and borderless, but he could only dwell in a small part of it, where it consisted of oceans upon oceans of sugary sand.

And then long brown hair fell around his face, surrounding his being like a fence of undeniable desire. His hands would sometimes neglect his own body and roam on the other's, tracing a map he learned to see albeit its invisibility.

Touch yourself…

He thinks it's too late for these games, but he can't help but play along. As long as it pleasured that person, it pleasured him.

His fingers danced around until they reached his pants' zipper and undid it.

Don't take it off…

The commanding tone invaded his body, sending heat waves to his groin. He let his hand massage up and down his clothed erection as the other watched him with eyes so intense, so pallid, as if they were melting down with the rest of his face.

At times, there would be pain, but only because he wasn't being touched. There would be pain because such intimate act always took place in the most detached way possible.

That didn't stop him from feeling the unadulterated yearning; so lustful and needy. With that person, sitting at the end of the bed, staring at him as if he was the absolute goal, how could he not?

Imagining it belonged to another, his hand slithered under his slips, stroking in a faster rhythm as the sound of his panting floated around the room.

Hot breath on his neck, fervent lips tracing hidden roads on his body, leaving rooms for secrets so enticing to fill other places with new riddles to be solved later.

But Later never came, and there were no kisses and no hot breath. He could feel it all as he jerked his hips, pouring all the heat out of his body only for it to return moments later.

There were so many details but it passed so fast, leaving him gasping alone in a room so different from his imagery. In a room that seemed so blue.

Without getting up from his bed, he searched the nightstand clumsily for a box of tissues. Getting one and cleaning the remains of what he now regretted, he stood up and went to the bathroom.

It always came second to short-lived bliss; self-loathing.

Staring at his own reflection in the mirror, he felt like ripping his face apart. He wanted -no- he needed the miserable guy in the mirror to jump out of it and battle him to death.

He wanted to feel worth again. To feel like life is more than just his imagery or his visions or those white dunes of sand or the person who graced his sleepless nights.

He wished dawn will come, and then leave without a fight.

At mornings like these, he wished that undefeatable loneliness would just go away for a walk. But it is also lonely, and so it would stick with you, defying everything you ever thought knew about yourself.

Such a pitiful thing.

Few hours and people would be awake, succumbing to the necessities of a life they weren't even living.  
A little space for himself was never a bad idea, and thus he walked out to the balcony, cigarettes and a lighter hidden in his underwear.

Everything was quite, and the only sound he could hear was the breeze, playing tunes offhandedly.

Lighting his first cigarette for that day, he thought about what's going to come. School was over, and he almost ended up repeating it all if not for his father's last minute input.

Tobirama Senju is going to enjoy those top notch cigars for the end of summer.

But his father-If there's something this man was good at, it was at leaving him hanging.

He had said absolutely nothing after he got the phone call from the school, informing him of his son's over the top vandalism. He didn't do anything. He never did anything. He just stared at him, and said that guests are arriving soon to congratulate him on graduating.

Gaara hated it all. He hated the party and the attendants and the facades and the gossip and the poll to decide his future. He hated how his father transformed completely in front of them; from a neglectful, obsolete father to a loving, mindful and concerned one.

They were all lairs. They all participated in butchering small parts of their children every day they weren't there; they all smiled at him and wished him success while their faces trickled poison.

But that wasn't only it. That wasn't the end of a night he came to despise.

A person was there as well, along with all those frauds. That person. He entered the room like he always did; as if he owned everything and everyone.

People thought the two of them were catching up. "Old friends", they'd say, blissfully unaware of the history shared between their bodies.

"Oh, I hope my son teaches yours how to handle it out there. Lord knows it's pretty tough for a young man like him."

Those words tickled his ears like the insufferable noises of a fly. He listened to them. They both listened to the same words, repeated over and over again, unconsciously bringing back memories he long since suppressed.

How can he blame them though? They're already in a utopia so far away from his.

But all those were fine. Everything was fine until he made the stupidest decision of his life.

This morning… it was him trying to duplicate a few moments that seemed so eternal- so endless and unreal.

But today was another life, and that person was only a page, full of incoherent scratches and scribbles; a page he still knows how to read. Therefore, the page needs to be ripped.

Gaara stomped his cigarette angrily on the marble rail. If there is someone who deserved all this loathing, it was him.

Weak… the way he allowed himself to be easily pushed against the wall, figuratively and literally.

How he didn't move; how his body succumbed to the aroma of highly alert nerves.

Weak because he let something as longing take over him all over again after he battled so hard to free himself of its clutches.

Weak because even now, all he could think about was that he would do it every night with the same eyes watching him.

How worthless.

Reaching inside his underwear to fetch another cigarette, he noticed the white pack. The brand read: Seven Stars. 

He snorted. When did this become his choice for a smoke?

This consequently lead him to wonder about another boy; someone more pleasant and kind. Someone who made him feel genuinely comfortable. 

And as if his thoughts emitted some kind of sign, his cellphone peeped from inside, warning him that it was against his nature to think of anybody in such a fond manner.

But it was also odd, because rarely if ever he received any calls.

Seeing a number under Temari's name, he frowned; when has she become a morning person.

Against his better judgment, he answered.

"I knew you'd be awake."

"No shit."

"So how are you?" 

He rolled his eyes. "Did you really call for this now?"

His sister chuckled. "No actually. I want you to tell your father I'm not coming today. I'm kind of stuck here." 

Gaara leaned against the rail. "Why don't you tell him yourself?"

"You know I'm not on best terms with him."

"No, that honor would go to his newspaper."

Temari snickered. "Just tell him I'll follow you guys to that Whirl-shit when I'm done with my mess here." 

"OK."

"Hey Gaara… you know- why we're going there?" 

"I don't care; I'm merely tagging along."

She snorted. "If I didn't know you any better I'd say you're telling the truth. The Gaara I know is no tag along; you must be going there for a reason."

He shrugged mentally, the movement transmitting to his words. "If there's any reason at all then it must be my need for a change of scenery."

Though not sounding convinced the least, she took his word for it. "But anyway, your father must be up for something. When did we ever go the countryside in summer, huh? The last time we went on a picnic was five years ago. how come now all this changes?" 

Gaara couldn't help but agree, though a part of him still didn't care. "Don't fret over it, Temari."

"Don't tell me what to fret over." she said, obviously pissed. "You know better than I do he's ready to sell us for a good deal of money. I need to know what I'm getting myself into."

"If I didn't know you any better I'd say you're scared."

She probably caught on his attempt at a quarrel, as she scoffed in a way only a Sabaku would manage. "The only thing I'm scared about is your health after I see you. I'm not comfortable about a plan out of the blue, from your father no less. Do you think he's probably gotten himself a deal there?" 

"I could care less." he repeated himself to her, hoping she would stop nagging.

"Why won't you search for an answer with me?" she asked, irritated.

"I just answered that. Goodbye Temari."

As he made it to hang up, he heard her voice calling again. "Hey hey, wait." he placed the phone back on his ear. "What kind of clothes I need to bring there?" 

He recalled Naruto telling him something about hot days and cold nights, and thought a little fun won't hurt."The day is twenty-four hot; you don't have to bring any jackets."

"Got it. See you there."

As the sun climbed up the sky, life began throbbing in the Sabaku household, and Gaara retreated back to his room.

It wasn't as dark or blue anymore after he pulled the long, heavy curtains of the window -which also served as a glass door to the balcony- apart, permitting sun light to penetrate his cave, but it was still as grim and empty as ever.

He had the smallest room, and claimed it the moment this house was written as theirs.  
It was shaped like a dome with rough edges; his bed was in the middle, a nightstand and a messy desk on either side of it while a relatively big closet was a little to the east.  
The fuzzy carpet was indigo in color, the walls grey and inert. He had no pictures or paintings hung on it, only mottled shelves for some of the books he'd read. And there were no windows except for the tall glass door.  
Nobody was allowed in it; no nosy siblings, no reproaching fathers, not even cleaning ladies.

However, he made sure to keep it clean and neat as most of his activities took place here. Even though they were going to leave this house for a while, he desperately needed to change the sheets.

In fact, he wanted to throw everything ever touched by that person out of the room; which meant all and everything he possessed.

Even his own clothes didn't feel like his.

And so he started.

Gaara went down stairs, followed by his brother's puzzled eyes, and fetched some screwdrivers of varying sizes along with a wrench and other tools from the kitchen.

"What are you going to do?"

He didn't answer and headed back to his room.

Beginning with the bed, Gaara disjointed the wooden pieces and piled them outside his chamber, followed by sheets and pillows. He then took a chair and climbed it to reach for few bags collecting dust at the top of his closet.

Turning to his nightstand, he pulled the drawers out and emptied all contents in the bags, leaving absolutely nothing but dust inside. He stopped upon reaching to the final drawer. It was locked.

He surveyed the room with his eyes, as if the key would wave to him. He knew he'll be wasting time searching around for it, so he didn't. Instead, he proceeded to bare the room of everything that secretly broke him.

When he finished, it was time for the hardest task; dismantling the closet. Making sure that it won't create a problem, he looked in the telephone book for the number of those men who helped put the same closet together.

They promised to be there in forty minutes or less.

His father stopped him after the call ended. "What are you doing?"

Gaara matched his father's stern expression. "I'm cleaning my room, like you said."

"Does that include calling a delivery service?" the man asked tersely.

"For the type of cleaning I'm doing, yes."

His father took a look around the now mostly empty room before shifting his attention back to him. "What type of cleaning?"

"I'm getting rid of things I don't need."

"And that includes even your bed?"

"I decided to buy a new mattress when we come back. No bed."

His father glanced at him questioningly. "You don't want a bed?"

"No,"

The man sighed after a long moment and uncrossed his arms, disapproval written all over his face. "To each his own. I suggest this mess outside your room be gone as soon as possible."

"It will."

Throwing one last glimpse his way, the man sauntered out of the room.

He allowed himself to inhale new air, and smile. Perhaps talking with Temari had given him some vigor.

............................

While going through his clothes, Gaara had found the key to the locked drawer; he contemplated -rather dumbly in his opinion- whether he should open it or not. He eventually did, and secured the few crummy trinkets inside his pajama pockets.  
Now that there was only a carpet in the room, he went down to the backyard, where he worked on creating what would be his fire festival.

The men arrived, and he helped them remove the closet from his room and all other things that looked fairly new, in their words.  
He got himself a good deal out of it all, earning some money enough to buy him few articles of clothes and a whole carton of cigarettes.

Gaara returned to the backyard, matchbox and a bottle of lighter fluid in hand.

Taking out the junk previously hidden in the drawer from his pockets, he added them to the pile without bothering a glance and set fire in the mountain of things he is no longer allowed to even think about.

No sooner than he threw them, flames writhed around the wood, the plastic, the woolen bracelets and the memories. It shivered when the remnants of his bed crackled under it but balanced once the wood burned out.

He could see his brother and father watching him from the corner of his eye, but he didn't care; this foreign kind of heavenly relief washed over him. Inside him was also something he threw into the festival, to be eaten by flames.

He ripped that page, and this time, he was certain if it ever crossed him again, he'll not be afraid of reading it.

Gaara was not the type to anticipate things, but he couldn't wait to ride in the car and head to Whirlpool.

...................................

Sabaku Daichi sat on his lavish, vanilla colored sofa, clad in his white bath robes and holding his sleek girlfriend between his hands, letting go every now and then to sip his cup of tea or suck on his cigar, puffing smoke in its face.

The perfect image of aristocracy.

More times than not, Gaara found the scene to be heavily amusing. He'd observe his father's streaked body; how he controls the language it speaks and stripes it down to numbers. And how, in moments of unawareness, he'd let it slip, and that's when Gaara's amusement would really settle.

There are few things this man had taught him, and he wouldn't feign enough abhorrence to say they didn't come in handy through his life time.

One of them was to have utmost command of his body. In other words, lie to the whole world about your true emotions using a language not many cared to learn or even understand.

But now, this man, in the comfort of his own home, unwittingly handed his son the secrets of his most inner being.

He was a little nervous, as he had forgotten to light his cigar three times now and held the newspaper differently. His eyes skimmed absent-mindedly through the pages, not really reading or paying attention.

Was he trying to hide something? Probably.

Did he wish to keep it hidden? Likely not, as he would take discreet glimpses at his sons, trying to understand their expressions and perhaps find the right moment to speak.

Gaara on his part kept his face inscrutable while Kankuro, sitting cross-legged on the brown leather couch facing him, was busy reading through one of his engineering textbooks and matching whatever he found inside with papers above papers of designs and sketches.

His father was becoming impatient by the minute, and Gaara felt not one ounce of guilt for not initiating a conversation as the man leafed through the newspaper, hoping he'd fool himself into forgetting his discomfiture.

Seeing as his disposition for today was unusually bouncy, Gaara got up from where he was on the couch and walked to the small piano on the far end of the huge living room.

He wiggled his fingers, searching his mind for an upbeat tune; something cynical; something fun that will manage to get on his father's poor nerves.

Something like…

Gaara, finding the exact piece he wanted to play, began tapping lightly over the dusty keys, the jaunty notes filling the room and the lively tune awarding him with a stiff twist of the neck in which his father turned around to glance at him bemusedly.

He's probably wondering when in the hell his son decided to grace his fingers over the piano's keys. However, the man instantly regained his posture, clearing his throat. "Cut this music off, Gaara."

After hitting a sharp note, he descended down to a more sullen one, reverting to another piece completely. "Is this the kind of music you like?" he asked, voice matching the somber tone of the music.

"I don't like any kind of music. Cut it off."

Gaara didn't listen, going back to the first piece, feeling as if objects in the living room were moving along with the music he was playing; or his father's anger, he didn't know which. "But why father, music is the medicine of the soul."

His father stood up rigidly, flames of irritation discharging from his eyes. "If you don't cut this right now, you will be punished."

He hit another sharp note, smirking wryly. "By what, no pocket money for a month?"

"You will not be allowed to visit Whirlpool with us."

His fingers inadvertently ceased their playful dancing across the keys and his shoulders slumped down. It was one of those moments when his body language matched his emotions. But what were those emotions, he didn't know.

The living room's furniture returned courteously to its place, and he rose from his seat, bowing elegantly to his visible and not so visible audience. "I was merely trying to entertain."

Making sure to fill it with as much distaste and enmity as possible, he threw his father one more glare before ascending the stairs to his room.

"What was that about?" He heard Kankuro ask and he snorted.

A small piece of his revenge, what it was, was.

.............................

Fetching a towel and a set of clean clothes, Gaara made his way to the bathroom, vexed beyond reason.

Starting the shower, he took off his clothes before testing the water. When it was hot enough, he stepped under it, succumbing to the warmth that invaded his body.

Squeezing enough shampoo in his palm, Gaara started tousling his hair, scratching in needless aggressiveness at his scalp, hoping it would take the twelve ways he came up with to murder his father away.

The overly sweet scent of the shampoo annoyed him greatly and he made to rinse it off his head.  
Letting the foam and the water wash over his face, he closed his eyes, resting his forehead against the cold tiles.

His heart was beating faster than it should.

Gaara's knees crumbled under him, and he attempted to stand up straight before giving up immediately and tumbling down to the shower's cold floor. Drawing his knees to his face, he buried his head between them, feeling utterly powerless.

Confusion, perplexity, bemusement; those were all things that made him feel disabled, weak, and impotent. Whenever he'd experience episodes of puzzlement, when it came to his own emotions, Gaara tended to feel a sort of crippling weakness.

Water drops trickled down his arched back, reminding him that it will eventually get cold and that he should continue to clean himself. He paid it no heed, raising his head a little to peer at the wall.

Nothing.  
Inside him was nothing. There was emptiness in a place he knew so well but did not visit. That emptiness he ignored for so long and still does; that hole, so black and endless and terrifying. 

How come his father knew how to strike the right string? Why was it the right string?

Why did going to Whirlpool matter all that much? He shouldn't care. He doesn't care whether they took him with them or not.

I'll go there alone anyway.

Gaara smacked his forehead against his knee, and smacked it again, wanting to feel pain. Wanting to get hold of whatever tangibility left of him before it evaporated with the steam.

He was so perilously close to acknowledge his feelings and yet he wished they'd just disappear. It was the same as wishing to remain weak and helpless. However, those feelings did not peter, and they all culminated to one thing; to one person.

And… Why did seeing Uzumaki Naruto once again matter this much?

It didn't matter but it did. It did so much that he started pulling at his hair, feeling the disbelief splitting him in half.

But no matter how many times he thwacked his head, no matter how many hairs he pulled, there was a song inside him and it drove him crazy.

It drove him crazy because he didn't know how to explain the lyrics of what was happening inside him and that was unacceptable for someone like him; it was wrong to not know how you feel about something. It was wrong and stupid and unlike him.

But that was also not the day to lose his mind, and so he turned off the shower, stepping outside to slip inside his favorite pair of jeans and a plain black shirt.

Naruto's memory usually calmed him in a way incomprehensible to him, but this time, the same person was much more than that boy he skipped classes and smoked with. This time, he acknowledged that Naruto was his one and only friend.

He didn't understand how such person managed to climb to a high chair like that, but it seems he did. Weirdly enough, the notion itself switched him to a more serene state and he gripped the hairdryer, making it to mangle the water out of his hair.

It was such an odd feeling.

..........................

Next day, so early at five am, they stood outside their house, bags and stock for the road trip all prepared. Kankuro loaded everything in the car and proceeded to beg their father to allow him the honor of driving it.

The grumpy man turned him down and got into the driver's seat, a smug look in his face, reminiscent of a kid whose parents bought him his dream toy.

What a childish man, Gaara thought.

Kankuro grouched and mumbled under his breath, seemingly begrudged; he got in the car eventually, fiddling with his jacket's zipper and mussing his hair only to check it again in the window glass. He was probably as impatient as Gaara was; for different reasons, of course.

His heart was betraying him once again; so blatantly this time, mainly because now, he's well aware of the reason behind its irrational pulsing.

He pondered a little about the future as he took the car's backseat, securing his headphones in place and slouching on the leather seat, glaring at the rising sun before closing his eyes.

"How long is it gonna take to get there?" Kankuro's voice sounded, incensed.

"At least six hours."

"Where the heck is this Whirlpool anyway?"

"It's a little far away from the city."

"I can tell!"

"If you don't stop whining then go there by train; you'll arrive three hours sooner and save us the pains of accompanying you." their father replied stringently.

Gaara, eyes still closed, furrowed his brow; maybe he should have taken the train instead of having to listen to their bickering for the upcoming hours. Alas, he threw the navy green hoodie of his jacket over his head and turned the music up, hoping it would drown their voices.

Alanis Morissette distinct, rather annoying voice singing Hand in My Pocket filled his ears, and Gaara wondered for the umpteenth time throughout his life why he liked this song.  
It seemed fitting for the countryside, though.

'cause I've got one hand in my pocket

And the other one is flicking a cigarette

He's going to 'flick' the world.

The rest of the song's words, however, reminded him of someone; someone who seemed like a lemon coated candy; someone who acted all tough and cheery but who was plagued by so many troubles.

Naruto… 

What was that chicken-shit doing anyway?

Gaara found himself inattentively imagining the other's face upon seeing him. The boy seemed fairly excited about spending the summer together, even though Gaara himself had no idea why they were heading there in the first place, and what were his father's intentions for taking them with him.

Where are they going to stay? Did his father rent a house or something? Are they going to stay at someone's place?

A place so naturally lavish like Whirlpool was undeniably a treat. But why?

He had given up on the idea of a business trip since he'd noticed the man's uncharacteristic fidgeting and unreasonable anger, pinpointing the fact that if something worried his father, it must be human interaction that required a level of intimacy of some sort; human connection that did not prompt professionalism.

Something way beyond his father's goldfish capabilities.

It must be something concerning another human being. Maybe a woman? Or perhaps a man? He didn't know which that block of wood preferred.

But he was also going for the sole reason of seeing another human being, and he was also quite nervous about it, so they were basically on the same boat for now.

Going back, he really focused on the thought of the blond boy and in which way they're going to spend the summer. How is he going to feel comfortable about all these new-found emotions concerning their so-called 'friendship'?

Gaara felt most content with neutral feelings towards everything, and he's proud to say he had excelled at it for the most part but then that guy had to come and ruin his preconceptions about pretty much everything.

Recalling that moment he so foolishly took the other's hand in his own. Why did he bother? He shouldn't have but he did. For a moment there, it was as painful to him as it was to Naruto; to feel so self-inclined and obliged despite not being told to.

I'm not certain… this became the phrase he used the most when it came to the blond. It was unlike him to be unsure about his needs and wants. He'd always known what he wanted, what path to take, and what route to dig; but with that guy, all of these marked things were different.

Did he really want to be held by Naruto that afternoon? But it sounded so ridiculous. Why was it so easy for Naruto to make him so… so unaware?

It scared him.

Being unaware was bad. Being inattentive was worse. Not keeping check on your reactions, retorts, and your manner of speaking were all things Naruto managed to bring out.

Another Gaara seemed to emerge to life solely for him.

What if he became a totally different person? What if he could barely grasp what's left of him? What if he didn't feel like himself anymore?

Naturally, he'd be kicking in outrage, fighting for something that now seemed so insignificant in the face of Naruto's wide, moronic smiles.

Gaara meandered on the leather seat, raising the volume even higher, propelling himself to visit a place where, for the meantime, Naruto didn't exist.

................................

"Gaara," somebody pushed his shoulder. "Gaara wake up, we're here. We're in Whirlpool."

He opened his eyes groggily, seeing Kankuro's figure positioned awkwardly over him, his legs outside the car.

Pushing Kankuro's face away from his line of vision, Gaara sat upright, staring out of the car's open door to where his father stood. His brother stepped out of the car and he followed, only to find himself standing in the middle of nowhere.

True, they were in a completely isolated area, car parked on the side of a road lined with a long, endless stream of trees. There was no one in sight, and he wondered if they were really in Whirlpool or the setting of a cheesy horror film.

Either way, his father turned around to face them, signaling for them to join him across the dusty blacktop road. The two of them complied, overpassing the empty street and standing next to their worn-out father.

"What now?" Kankuro asked impatiently.

Their father looked around, surveying the area once more. "We're waiting for someone."

And as if on cue, a rusty, faded-blue truck appeared in the distance; a long arm popped out of the window and waved to them enthusiastically. His father waved back, a smile Gaara had never seen before drawn on his normally unimpressed face.

So he wasn't wrong; it was about another human being.

The truck stopped in front of them, and a woman emerged; her long hair, the color of a red dawn, was enough to turn the eyes of a whole court of uninterested men.

She smiled brightly, reminding him greatly of the way Naruto smiled. The woman skipped to them, holding out her arms widely. "Daichi!"

His father mimicked the gesture and walked leisurely to her, enveloping the woman in his arms. "Kushina, dear, how are you?"

She laughed, wrapping her arms around him in return. "I'm fine, I'm great. How are you?"

Gaara watched the exchange, and the new, unfounded intimacy this usually cold and detached man was showing. He watched as they parted, kissing each other's cheeks and smiling coyly like teenagers in love.

He almost felt like gagging.

Daichi cleared his throat, probably noticing the awkwardness as both his sons stood idly behind the two, not knowing if they should be there or not.

"Kushina, those are my sons." he gestured to them, and she followed his gaze, dark blue eyes settling on them. "Boys, this is Kushina, a dear friend of mine."

Kushina sauntered to them, her long dress fluttering in the wind, her long hair straying in the horizon, giving her this indiscernible holy relic. She wasn't a tall one, nor was she short; she was at the exact right height and proportions any man could ever wish for a woman to have.

"Hello," she greeted, her smile lessening not. The woman struck her hand, holding it out to Kankuro. His brother took it, a stunned expression adorning his dumb face. "You must be Kankuro."

His brother continued to frantically shake her hand. "Woah, you're hot…"

The woman used her free hand to scratch the back of her head sheepishly, sticking out her tongue like a rowdy child.

"Watch your language Kankuro." their father reproached sternly, arms folded.

Kushina waved a hand dismissively. "It's okay, nobody complimented me in a long time." she glanced at him as Kankuro continued to shake her hand. "And you must be Gaara."

He nodded, not knowing any other way to answer such an obvious question.

She let go of his brother's hand and walked to him. "I've been lookin' forward to meeting ya, especially after bein' told you're the family's redhead." she leaned down on his ear and whispered. "Not many people have the privilege of red hair; we're lucky shotas."

The woman winked playfully, and then turned back to his father. "Get in your car, Daichi; I'll drive me truck and lead you to the house."

His father nodded, heading to the car while Kushina headed back to her old truck. Gaara seized the opportunity and asked to ride in with her; she zealously agreed, ushering him inside the small vehicle.

Kankuro shot him a puzzled glance and he ignored it, finding this to be a better time for investigation.

Following him inside, Kushina started her truck, reeling it backwards and heading back to where she came from.

As she drove, chatting away at nothing, Gaara observed this figure; this person.  
Her moves, her reactions, her excitement, and her manner of speaking, -albeit a bit different and heavier- were so reminiscent of someone else. Almost as if they were copied.

"Ne Gaara," she started. "I heard you're in the same school as my son. Do you know him? Uzumaki Naruto, unruly blond hair, blue eyes, easily spotted in a crowd."

Gaara shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know him."

She looked disappointed, but smiled anyway. "Then I bet you two will get along just fine. He's your age, ya know?"

He knew so well it hurt.

Why?  
Why did he lie about something as normal and trivial as knowing someone?

It was in no way a thoughtful retort, nor did he for a second mull over her question. It came out, so simply and dumbly that he wondered if his subconscious had something to hide.

Was the reality of knowing that woman's son worth concealing or denying? But again, meeting Naruto, at times, felt like it happened in another life.

Was this the real life? But if Kushina existed in this one, then Naruto must've had existed as well, and all the days they'd spent together were more than real.

When Gaara suddenly recalled the feel of Naruto's fingers entwined with his, he knew that it was so surrealistically real and true, even though those times still felt as if they were from another timeline altogether.

He scoffed internally. Was he really that unable to comprehend reality? Was he really referring to meeting Naruto with something akin to a dream?

"We're here."

Kushina's voice pulled him out of his head, prompting him to look outside the window and see one of the -if not the- most beautiful place in his life.

"That's me house up there." she pointed with her finger to said house, barely visible behind all the gigantic trees surrounding it.

Beside them was a large vineyard that seemed to have only a beginning and no end; one large, slightly ajar iron gate marked the entrance, adorned with one symbol; a red swirl.

Gaara stared out of the window in awe, marveling at the air's scent of soil and pine, and the cool breeze that fiddled carelessly with their hearts.

No wonder that one fervent of a jungle man Naruto treasured this place as much as he did. It was absolutely majestic.

But there was no time to be enamored. He needed to move and warn Naruto as fast as possible, even though he had no clue from what; it was this urge inside him to find the other and slap him with all the new-found information he'd managed to collect from both their parents.

And so, he took Kushina's permission to cross the vineyard as a way to reach the house. "Of course you can!" she said. "We'll round the land and get to the main entrance so your da could park his car."

His 'da' was the least of his worries for now.

Gaara got off the car, jogging to the iron gate and pushing it lightly enough to fit between the tall doors and get inside.  
He then heard Kushina's voice call loudly behind him. "If you found Naruto, then call him in."

He was going to find Naruto, and he was going to thwack their heads together until this reality turned into a mere dream again.

Darting through the mazes of the vineyard, Gaara's eyes searched around frantically, his heart on a race with his footsteps as they dug holes in the tender soil. Feeling almost desperate, he peeked with his head over the vines, and there he saw it; a shock of yellow hair that was impossible not to notice.

Although his heart continued to throb faster than he'd like to, it calmed considerably at the sight of Naruto just few vines away, thoroughly unaware of another's presence so close to him.

Gaara compelled his legs to walk slower with each step until he was behind Naruto. The blond boy was smoking, gray threads floating over his head and creating a sort of aura around him.

Sauntering closer, he watched as Naruto hastily flung his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it and flinging his arms around to get rid of the smoke.

Did he think Gaara was someone else?

Naruto glanced around, and when their eyes met, the other's face became quite pale, as if a spaceship just landed behind him. He stepped closer, and stared the other right in the eye, saying the one thing that came to mind. "We're in deep shit."

..........................

He stood there, having to watch as Naruto walked in circles, pulled at his hair and spoke in a language worse than gibberish.

"Gods, why are you doing this to me?" the blond plead to the heavens, his blue eyes reflecting an infantile kind of sorrow. "Is it because I don't pray? 'Cause I promise I will if this's just a joke."

Gaara pinched the bridge of his nose, finding no time for this kind of entreaty. "What a marvelous time to be religious."

Naruto fell to his knees, raising his arms dramatically to the sky. "She knows your father! My mother is your father's dear friend! Your father, of all people! Why is this earth so fucking small?!" he shouted, head thrown back, mouth agape.

He contemplated telling the other how pathetic he looked, but stopped when Naruto glanced at him, face wistful. "Kill me right here and end my miserable life."

Gaara sighed. "You should take acting classes."

"I should take fuck me classes!"

After more floundering, weltering in the dirt, and yelling, Naruto was up on his feet, dusting his overalls and hair. "What should we do?" he murmured drearily, facing away from Gaara.

"Nothing," he replied. "We're strangers, and that's as much as they know; nothing needs to be done."

Naruto looked at him, frenetic eyes searching his for a more reassuring answer, as if Gaara had it. "But why didn't you tell her that you knew me?"

He sighed again, not happy with the way this conversation –to even call it one- was heading. "Don't rummage through sand for more sand, Naruto. You're as much a lair as I am. Act upon my statement and nothing will change."

The blonde's expression turned one of furiousness. "How could you say that?" he asked, exasperated. "How could you think nothing will change if I acted like I don't know you?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Because you don't know me, Naruto; it's like meeting each other for the first time, and that's how we should act."

Naruto's arms fell limply to his sides, melancholy apparent on his face. "Maybe… maybe I don't know you like you said, but what I do know is that I don't want to act like I've never met the small part of you I'm familiar with."

The conversation was stirring in the exact way he didn't want it to, and he wished to end it as soon as possible. "Your mother is expecting us; we'll talk inside, okay?"

Naruto nodded, but made no attempt at moving. He was losing what little patience and tolerance he had for the day and walked past the blond boy, noticing how the other avoided any physical contact with him by stepping further to the side.

It was confusing, to leave Naruto –his friend- hanging like this, and it annoyed him more than it should have. He truly wished to relieve Naruto of this, but he had no way of knowing how; he, himself, was lost in a blizzard of his own set of unanswered questions.

...............................

Upon arriving at the house, Gaara was glad nobody paid them much attention except for his father who looked Naruto up and down before declaring the boy greatly resembled his mother.

Kushina took their bags to the rooms they were going to occupy, advising them to take a bath and rest until she wakes them for dinner, and they all agreed.

He did not see Naruto until later that evening, when they all huddled around the kitchen's table as Kushina dotted it with food.

It amazed him how well the other played his role. The blond sat there, not overly polite, but still mannerly enough to paint the picture of the good son with a perpetual smile placed so perfectly on his face.  
He chatted, emphasizing his words with his arms, palms, and even managed to attract the attention of their father.

Gaara knew how carefully that face had been crafted, and he thanked Naruto inwardly for holding up to the challenge and following on his lie. However, that did not, in any way, erase his deep discomfort for the night.

To him, their parents' 'friendship' seemed much more than that. He knew they were dating; he also knew Naruto was well aware of that fact. Anyone with a half-functioning brain could tell if they attended that night's dinner.

However, said night continued normally and the dinner was undeniably wonderful, presenting a nice change for their family's routine of either take-outs or maid-cooking.

He had long since forgotten what it's like to have a woman in the house; a home without a woman is no home at all.

When all were done and finished, they headed to their rooms, Kushina asking Naruto to help him and Kankuro settle in. The boy nodded, and the two of them followed him as he walked through the long hallways of the one-story house.

Naruto talked with Kankuro all the way, thoroughly ignoring Gaara's presence, and when they arrived to the brothers' shared room, he faked a smile, bidding them goodnight before disappearing out of the room, leaving the door open for the hallway's faint blue light to illuminate the chamber.

He couldn't sleep. He didn't want to sleep. So, Gaara spent the night staring out of the window at Kankuro's bedside, wondering about the validity of his choice to lie.

Why did they have to act indifferent and unfamiliar towards each other as if they've done something unacceptable?  
Why did he think they were in deep shit? He shouldn't have thought so, and he shouldn't have cared; but somehow, he found the fact of their parents knowing each other, less so dating, to be immensely bothersome and unsettling.

It created a sort of pillar between him and Naruto.

Gaara wanted to break that pillar, and the only way to do it was to break whatever thing their parents had going on. It was the only way to safeguard and preserve something he's yet to understand fully.

The only way to complete his revenge and feel in control again.


	4. Sunglasses in the Dark

The lights flickered in sync with the chugging of the train, and she watched as the world passed by her in complete darkness. Unable to make out the view, she went back to leafing through the book in her hands, not at all in the mood for reading.

Her last week in collage was by far the worst she'd ever had. She tried to stay positive and impassive through it all but sometimes staying calm proved harder than she'd thought.  
She ended up throwing some tantrums, undergoing fits of madness and incomprehensible screams.

They begged her to leave.

When their father suggested a visit to the countryside, she agreed, albeit dubious, to go and open an outlet to her anger. Maybe shout on top of a mountain or kick some logs.

The world was such a mystery to her, and life manifested itself in the corners of said mystery. She has yet to encounter a corner that seemed welcoming. The world was mean and unmoved by her pleas, and she found it increasingly hard to accept her lack of fortune and move on.

She sighed, glancing around discreetly. An old man caught her glimpse and winked in what he probably thought was seductive; he then stuck out his tongue, and rolled it in small circles, all the while jerking off an invisible penis.

Cringing, she trained her eyes back on the book, still feeling his eyes burning holes in her back.

Finally when the train halted, and she spotted the large neon sign that read: Welcome to Whirlpool, Temari gathered her things as fast as possible and descended down, hoping that life had a corner to spare where dirty old men didn't exist.

For some reason, she glanced back to see the man throwing her kisses, doing the exact same motions he did mere minutes ago. She was glad when an old woman behind him smacked his head with her burse, resulting in the man giving the old lady the finger, which she returned in such style. The train moved back into motion before Temari could witness the rest of their quarrel.

In a way, however, she was not happy when the chilly air slapped her bare legs and shoulders like tiny paper-cuts and jabbed at her face like a bucket filled with snow.

Gaara was going to pay for this with his balls.

The train station, to say the least, was a very simple place. Two platforms on either side of the railroad, made by stones meticulously pressed next to each other; small, granite cottages built on the far ends of the podium, hedged by tree branches.

Red, erratically placed lampposts adorned the platform, lighting the way for her. Although it was veiled in complete darkness, she could make the shapes of the high hills that surrounded the place like giant, faceless monsters.

Spotting a lonely wooden bench under the neon sign, Temari approached it while pulling out her cellphone, making it to call one of her brothers. Sitting down, she dialed Gaara's number.

There was no signal.

Temari grunted indignantly. Her luck was as bright as ever.

She looked around, searching for anyone in sight despite knowing full well she isn't going to ask for their help. It was something so innate in her, not seeking interaction, but still wishing for the presence of other people.

However, looking again, she could almost make out a glint in the darkness few feet away from her bench. Temari squinted hard enough to make out the shape of something, severed in half and floating in the air.

She tilted her head, not sure if what she's seeing was a living thing.

"Can I help you with something?"

Temari opened her mouth a little, and then closed it. "I thought you were a ghost."

"I could be a ghost."

She scoffed, returning back to her unsuccessful dialing attempts. After a long moment of wondering why this world continued to hate her, Temari, still sensing the stranger's presence, faced towards the low humming noise said stranger was making. "Where can I get a-"

"A signal?" he renewed. "You can't. Not here."

Not pleased with his interruption, -as the voice definitely belonged to a male- Temari shifted her attention to the empty rail below the platform. Then suddenly, she was engulfed in darkness when the bright neon sign that lit over her head seconds ago gave out.

The only light now was the faint one emitting from the lampposts. It illuminated the rail, giving the trees and cottages in both sides an eerie feel, adorning them with fluttering shadows.

The moon was blotted by clouds, adding to the dread of this place.

Temari checked her phone's clock, and found it to be way past yesterday. She consoled herself that it was quite early when she boarded the train, and thus it was far from it being her fault for arriving at such a late hour.

If you could call two in the morning a late hour, anyway.

Compelling herself into patience, Temari pulled her pack of cigarettes from her bag in an attempt to forget the unfriendly coldness that continued to assault her body through her thin layer of clothes.

"You smoke?" the stranger asked, seconds after she lit her first smoke for the day.

Her lips formed a smirk around the cigarette. "It's quite obvious I do."

"I see. Why do you smoke?"

Temari scoffed. "The real, very dire question is: Did I, in a way, do something with my body to invite you?" she paused, searching in the silence for a reaction. "Or did I give you a cue to continue this conversation?"

"Then I suppose one requires a permission to speak with you?"

Taking a long, satisfying drag of her cigarette, she answered. "Stranger do, yes."

"Then can I speak with you?"

Temari scratched her brow. "What is it that you want?"

"I just want to talk with you."

She thoughtlessly passed over his answer. "Listen here buddy, I have one thin hair that stands between calm and furious, and I think the robe you're playing on is rather loose."

"But I've found myself balancing rather stably on the loose robe you've just mentioned."

She threw her head back, vision filled with the black sky above her. "What next, you're gonna recite some poetry?"

"Do you want me to recite poetry?"

Finding this 'talk' to be going nowhere, she returned to peering at the dimly lit railroad, stepping on the spent cigarette and making it to light another one. It annoyed her how that presence lingered at the side of her glance, still shrouded in darkness and the only thing she could see was the far flickering glint.

It relentlessly peaked at her curiosity, but she made no move to further a conversation or close the distance. And suddenly, the stranger spoke.

"I interest you."

Temari almost burst out laughing. If only there weren't as many delusional people as there actually were, maybe then the world might've given her some attention.

"Are we reenacting some bad movie?" she asked, amused.

"I'm afraid we might, but not yet."

"Sheesh, just drop the act already; I won't judge you or anything." she assured him, not entirely honest.

"But you sound like such a judgmental person." the stranger replied, still speaking calmly.

"And you sound like a pretentious douchebag who probably stands here every night to pick on people, or worse, girls." Temari retorted. "You're some geek who's got no friends and too much time on hand that you have no idea what better things to do than pretend people are interested in you."

A hoarse chuckle sounded from the stranger's spot. "I cannot deny that's exactly what I do, but I must disagree with your rather errant opinion on my douchebaggery." silence ensued before the stranger continued. "I do, in fact, have friends, but what I have the most is too much time on my hand. So, you are not entirely wrong."

Temari peered at where he was standing, hoping she's staring him in the eye. For a while they spoke no words, until she sighed, moving to the bench's far end. "What about you come here? I feel at disadvantage when you're the only one able to see my face."

It took some time before the stranger stepped out of the darkness like some fairy-tale creature, tall and vague-looking, and just as cryptic as his answers.

She snickered. "That's some sense of style you got there."

From what she gathered, people would often glance at their clothes upon hearing such remark, but this one seemingly ignored her comment and approached the bench, sitting beside her and keeping enough distance between them.

She found herself appreciating his sense of space.

"I will take that as a compliment." he said.

Temari snorted. "You should, 'cause that's as far as I'm commenting on this atrocity."

"At least I'm warm."

He reminded her –rather harshly- of the unforgiving chilliness. "Asshole." She muttered under her breath, withdrawing smoke from her cigarette, hopefully poking her patience into work once again.

"You're not going to offer me your jacket?" she asked friskily.

"No."

Temari scrunched her face, tapping her cigarette to get rid of the ash. "That was not the answer I hoped for."

"But that's the answer you got."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you socially challenged?"

"As much as anyone is." he replied placidly, maintaining the bothersome air surrounding him.

"You're annoying me."

He leaned against the bench's back, clothed arms at his sides. "But am I burning that thin hair between calm and furious?"

That stranger was beginning to tap on her nerves, but she had learned, as the family marked her tempter from a young age, to enter into a more serene state of mind, in which everything was composed and where she acted a bit more cordial.

Since she'd been more or less in an uncoordinated state for the past week, Temari decided to give herself a break by being a little less harsh on the stranger's ass. "Believe me if you did they won't be able to find your remnants."

"Why? Because there will be nothing left of me when you're done or because you'll hide my corpse some place in the woods?"

"No, I'll be shitting you in a toilet. I tend to eat annoying people."

"So you perceive me as annoying?" he asked, looking at her for the first time since he sat next to her. It didn't matter however as his dark glasses and high collar hid most of his face.

Temari still felt at disadvantage, not given enough visual clues about the other's emotions. His monotone also revealed nothing, which only added to her indisposition.

She answered him anyway, hoping she'd pin him through his words. "I believe you're annoying me on purpose. You enjoy my reactions."

"And you're just as inflexible as you sound when I do so."

Feeling triumphant, Temari leaned back, grinning. "Wanna smoke?"

He shook his head. "I don't smoke."

Pulling a cigarette out of her pack, she urged it towards him. "Maybe you would today? Cigarettes are not very enjoyable when smoked alone. Everybody knows that."

Hesitant, the tall guy took the cigarette from her hand, putting it not in his mouth, but in his pocket. "So you have a mouth there too?" Temari miffed, this time she driving him into a reaction.

The stranger shook his head again. "No, I'm keeping it for later."

Temari sighed, deciding to leave him be. "So what now?" she asked him.

"Now I wish you would let me see, if only for this night."

Even though the words were quite… soulful, they were said in such insipidity that she could not but stare at him with incertitude. "What are you even talking about?"

All of a sudden, the stranger stood up, dusting his ridiculous long coat. "Tell me your destination."

"What?"

"Where are you heading, tell me?" he asked again, not once rising above his equable tone.

Temari started fishing inside her bag for the hastily written address Kankuro gave her. Once she found it between the lipsticks and the tampons and the empty cigarette packs, she stood up as well, handing it to the tall guy.

He hummed. "The Uzumaki residence-that's a long walk."

"There are no cars?" she inquired.

The tall stranger turned to her, handing the small paper back. "No, not in this area. We're not too far from town, but to reach the Uzumaki land we'll have to cross the woods."

"Were those Uzumaki folk some vampire shit?"

"I'm afraid they're still alive and well, but they're a little reclusive, and have a tight net of friends of whom neither I nor my family are part of. I know of no other way there but to cross the woods."

Temari watched as the tall guy jumped off the platform and over the railroad, walking before her to the forest ahead.

"Uh, excuse me, sir. I'm afraid I'm going with you nowhere; into the woods, no less. Very subtle, I must admit." she said, caustic.

He turned around. "Subtle…?"

Temari placed a hand on her hip. "Yes. I mean what would assure me you're not hiding anything under that coat of yours."

He tipped his head forward. "Do I look like I would hide anything?"

"You look like you could be anything, really. Your coat happened to unleash my imagination."

"So I get you wish to go into the woods alone?"

Realizing he might be her only 'current' chance to reach her destination, Temari agreed to his temporary company, though still insisted on rounding up town.

"Anything better than going into a forest with a stranger." she told him, shoving the cigarettes pack and the address paper in her stuffed bag.

It was going to be a long night, -or morning- she just knew.

.....................................

"Why is there no goddamn signal?!" Temari shouted to the heavens, holding her currently useless phone in a death grip.

"People are staring at you." the tall guy next to her informed coolly, talking for the first time since they left the station.

She sneered at him. "Do I look like I care?"

"Not right now, no."

"Then don't tell me what to do!" she yelled at him, and he lowered his head, the shadow of his large hoodie concealing what features he allowed the world to see.

Temari looked around them; the area they were crossing was a mess of bars and gas stations, convenient stores and hookers leaning against poles, glancing at passers with half-lidded eyes, their clothes leaving nothing to the imagination.

The neon lights she became accustomed to in this town flashed brightly, defying the darkness of the night and turning the place into one huge lamp.

"Do you want something to drink?" the stranger asked her, pointing out to a relatively decent looking bar ahead of them.

She huffed. "I don't have time to go into bars; I need to reach that damned house."

The stranger, losing none of his composer, pointed once again to a vending machine at one of the gas stations. "Then we could get something from there."

Perhaps a drink wasn't very bad after a trying day, and so she agreed, walking alongside him to the station amidst the nosy-looking people and their inquisitive stares.

As if reading her mind, the stranger spoke. "They're staring because you present another world to them. They find you interesting."

"More like leering, and not staring." she told him, folding her arms as if it would protect her from their ravenous eyes. "Anyway, I thought Whirlpool had a fair amount of tourists. Why would I be any different?"

"Why you ask," the tall guy fetched a coin from one of the many pockets in his long coat. "It is because of me."

Before she could ask what he meant by that, he asked her. "Beer?"

Temari shrugged. "Beer is fine."

As if not seeing the designated slit, he rather clumsily slipped two coins in the vending machine and got them both two beer cans, the logo unfamiliar to her. She pointed to the ancient man's face plastered on the can, a dizzying swirl behind his disembodied torso. "What kind of beer is this?"

"It's a Whirlpool beer." he replied.

"Thought so; I've never seen this brand before."

"This man is the one who introduced beer to this town when all it had was wine. He became quite famous after that." he informed her blankly, tapping on the can's surface three times before opening the lid.

Temari found it rather ridiculous to put a man's face on a beer can just because he did something like slaking a town's thirst for a new drink, but she enclosed her fingers around his face as the stranger guided her out of the dazzling lamp, and into a soil, dusty road, overshadowed by a canopy over their heads, formed by the tangled branches of the trees that lined the route. It blocked the moon, but the further they walked inside, the more they were closer to a wan, orange light at the end.

Remembering her destination, Temari thought back to why in the world are they staying in an inhabited house instead of renting a cabana or some other shit. It built an even taller ladder to her suspicions about that man's intentions.

He better not be up for something, she thought, not wishing to be –once again- a pawn on their father's chess board.

Inhaling deeply, she asked her companion, whose presence beside her still resembled that of a loitering phantom. "So who are those Uzumakis anyway?"

The stranger seemed to wait for her to open her can, possibly to indicate she's giving him her full attention. When silence returned, and the only voice heard was their footsteps on the hard soil, he answered. "It is rumored their wine industry is what kept Whirlpool standing as long as it did, and thus it's the reason for much scorn towards them. Three years ago, the mayor attempted an agreement with them, a deal where half their yearly income goes to the town's reconstruction. Due to a long history of shared interests, they agreed."

Temari scoffed, suddenly all the pieces falling in place; their father was absolutely here for business. "Sounds like the old man picked some wealthy people to hang around with. So like him."

"The old man?" the guy inquired, glancing at her.

She shrugged half-heartedly. "I like to think I was born into another family, for another parents, but that old man happens to be my father."

The tall stranger looked up at the sky, the pale moon finally visible through the tangled branches and the leaves. "The world could be very small…"

"What do you mean by that?" she asked him, taking another sip from her beer, actually liking the distinct taste of butter that clung to the back of her throat.

"Why, you ask; it's like the chance of us meeting at the station. You could've met anyone, but you met me, which is the world's way of showing how small yet indiscernible it could be."

Temari pinched her eyebrows. "I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about."

"Me neither." he retorted, and then stopped on his track. "There are few rocks ahead of us, aren't there?"

Following his shaded gaze, Temari found that indeed, there was a small highland at the end of the soil road. At one side, it succumbed under several large rocks that mounted over one another, and on the other side, there seemed to be a set of stairs that led somewhere under the hill.  
She glanced back at him. "I suggest you take off those glasses; aren't they blinding you a little?"

He sauntered past her, and upon reaching the knoll and sitting on of the rocks, he lowered down his hoodie and found his voice. "The only way one would be blind is by not being able to see the beauty of our world."

Temari trotted after him, a smile finding a way to her face at the sight of the smooth, egg-shaped shaven rocks; taken from a river, perhaps?  
Finding a spot higher than the one he occupied, she sat, and peered at the sight the highland overlooked and down at the nearly empty street under the abyss they were apparently on. Does this town have no structure?

"Who the hell designed this place anyway?" she asked, still staring down at the silent neighborhood bellow. "It's such a mess…"

Temari's guide-of-sorts murmured something, and she looked back at him, failing to catch what he's just said. "What?"

He didn't bother to look at her. "Tell me what you see."

She grunted. "Why don't you move your lazy head a bit, maybe then you'll see for yourself."

"Please - just tell me what you see." he solicited, still facing away from her. "What do you see? Describe it."

Although she remained annoyed, Temari found no harm in plainly talking about what she was seeing, especially after his near melancholic tone.  
Sighing, she surveyed the neighborhood, and started transferring what she saw into words. "There… there are tall lampposts alongside the road." she said lamely.

"Have they rusted?" he asked.

"Yeah, a bit; if I look hard enough, I can recognize the old paint; it's peeling." consent ensued as she searched for another thing to describe, the situation becoming increasingly silly for her. "There are houses, and they're pretty much stacked above and next to each other, kinda chaotically." Temari paused. "It's… it's like the houses had been curved inside this sculpted mountain. They almost seem like caves…"

"Do you think it's beautiful?"

"What?"

He repeated. "That scene, the houses; do you think it's beautiful?"

Temari shrugged. "I can't deny they don't have an artistic… feel, about them." she paused, considering the scene more, and heaving a sigh despite herself. This newfound, unbidden sensation filled her. "It is beautiful though…"

"Continue."

She stretched her neck closer over the abyss, feeling the blood rush slowly to her head. "It's completely dark accept for the few spots the lampposts are illuminating… not all houses are lit either; I can only see light coming from few windows, and there's also no one in the street. It's almost as if everyone deserted the place."

He didn't round off or conclude her words with a question, he just benched there, rigid like a badly carved sculpture, not looking at her.

"The past's boat, I will sink it, sink it, sink it…" he chanted quietly.

In a moment of pleasant surprise, a wide smile found its way to Temari's face, and she forgot their little game. "You know this song?"

"We were the same salt, and then we drifted, drifted, drifted…" he continued, his hushed voice giving the song a new flavor. "Mind your own, I'll mind my own; the past's boat, I'll sink it…"

He gazed up at her, the long collar of his jacket unzipped and his face was a small bit of light in the bleakness around them. "I do know the song." he said.

Temari grinned at him, glad she's finally able to see his face, albeit with bug glasses for eyes. "Shouldn't we continue walking?"

The tall guy nodded silently, standing up and dusting off his clothes. Making to zip his collar, Temari stopped him. "Don't!"

She feared it came out a little desperate, as he just stared at her, his fingers frozen around the big slider. Temari thus felt the need to ignore the unwitting skip her heart just performed and add a reason to her request. "Don't hide your face behind all the bad fashion; you aren't as unshapely as I thought you'd be."

After a moment that lasted infinitely, he let go of the slider and left his face visible. "Is that better?"

Temari nodded heartily and skipped down the stones. "I'm Temari, by the way. Sabaku Temari." she held out her hand.

He extended his hand as well, but it took him more than few restless seconds to take hers and shake it, all the while a faint smile graced his face. "Shino Aburame."

She grinned. "Nice to meet you, Shino Aburame."

The two then rounded the hill and descended down the narrow, ancient stairs she'd previously noticed and which led to the old neighborhood bellow. At one side there was a wall, overgrown with ivy, and on the other side, there was nothing, but heights did not terrify her.

She drove the tips of her fingers along the granular wall, her hands catching in the wild vines that strayed all over it and her fingers pumping over the prickles.

The two companions hung around the ward, Temari's tongue slipping long enough to describe every corner and spot she saw or noticed, interrupted only by trivial questions. In a little while, Shino's tongue slipped as well, and they talked, made jokes and sang more.

It worried her for a moment that this supposed stranger felt like a stranger no more, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, along with that face on the beer can, the weather's frigidity and the awkwardness.

...............................

"And then some punk stole my bike!" she went on with her story about the agony of losing her precious motorcycle. "I reported to the police department and they wanted me to confirm that the bike was mine! Can you believe this shit? I gave them my number if they ever found it. I swear when I get my hands on that bas-"

Temari's balance wavered and she staggered a little as she laid her eyes on the big one story house that filled her vision. "Fucking god…"

Shino stood next to her, unflinching without his jacket in the face of the dawn's chilliness. "So we arrived."

She nodded dumbly, the jacket's hoodie moving along with her head; eyes fixated on the creepy-looking house and all the trees around it, Temari gaped. "So this is the Uzumaki residence…"

The house and its surroundings basked in the pale rays of the day's first hours of light and she made it to take off the jacket, shrugging it off her shoulders and handing it back to her companion who took it wordlessly.

Taking a deep breath, Temari turned to him with a smile. "Thanks."

"I should be the one thanking you. You were nice most of the way, Temari."

The way he said her name, the finality he uttered it with, an incentive that propelled her to step forward, entering his personal space to plant a kiss on the side of his mouth.

Shino's face remained expressionless, but it didn't frustrate her as his surprise manifested in a large hand that rose to his mouth, finger tips resting where her lips lingered for less than two seconds.

"Goodbye, Shino." she went past him, heading to the house's wooden door. "Oh yeah, I forgot." Temari turned around, grinning. "How come you are so well familiar with this place?"

The tall guy, still in the same shell-shocked posture she left him in, answered. "I know Whirlpool like I know the curves of my soul."

Temari scoffed, propping her hand to knock on the door.

If only he wasn't such a lair; and a poetic one at that.


End file.
